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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1157d04 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51989 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51989) diff --git a/old/51989-0.txt b/old/51989-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index cfab707..0000000 --- a/old/51989-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2500 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Woman in the Alcove, by Jennette Lee - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you’ll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Woman in the Alcove - -Author: Jennette Lee - -Illustrator: A. I. Keller And Arthur E. Becher - -Release Date: May 3, 2016 [EBook #51989] -Last Updated: February 21, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOMAN IN THE ALCOVE *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - - - -THE WOMAN IN THE ALCOVE - -By Jennette Lee - -Illustrated by A. I. Keller And Arthur E. Becher - -Charles Scribner’s Sons, New York - -1914 - -[Illustration: 0008] - -[Illustration: 0009] - -Copyright, 1914, by CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS - -Published September, 1914 - -TO - -GERALD STANLEY LEE - - -I - - - “Room after room, - - I hunt the house through - - We inhabit together. - - Heart, fear nothing, for, heart, thou shalt find her-- - - Next time, herself!--not the trouble behind her - - Left in the curtain, the couch’s perfume! - - As she brushed it, the cornice-wreath blossomed anew; - - Yon looking-glass gleamed at the wave of her feather. - - -II - - - - “Yet the day wears - - And door succeeds door; - - I try the fresh fortune-- - - Range the wide house from the wing to the centre. - - Still the same chance! She goes out as I enter. - - Spend my whole day in the quest,--who cares? - - But ’tis twilight, you see--with such suites to explore, - - Such closets to search, such alcoves to importune.” - - - - -I - - -ELDRIDGE WALCOTT paused in front of the great building; he looked -up and hesitated and went in. He crossed the marble lobby and passed -through the silent, swinging doors on the opposite side and stepped into -a softly lighted café. He had never been in Merwin’s before, though he -had often heard of it, and he was curious as to what it would be like. -There was a sound of music somewhere and low voices and the tinkle of -silver and glass behind the little green curtains. He entered an alcove -at the left and sat down. The restfulness of the place soothed him, and -he sat listening to the distant music and looking out between the parted -curtains of the alcove to the room with its little tables filling the -space beyond the green-curtained alcoves on either side and the people -seated at the tables. They were laughing and eating and talking and -drinking from delicate cups or turning slender-stemmed glasses in their -fingers as they talked. Beyond the tables rose a small platform; a woman -had just mounted it and was bowing to the scattered tables. The sound of -voices ceased an instant and hands clapped faintly here and there. The -woman on the platform bowed again and looked at the accompanist, -who struck the opening bars. It was a light, trivial song with more -personality than art in the singing of it, and the audience applauded -perfunctorily, hardly breaking off its talk to acknowledge that it was -done. The woman stepped down from the platform and joined a group at a -table near by, and waiters moved among the tables, refilling cups and -glasses and taking orders. - -A waiter paused by the alcove where Eldridge Walcott was sitting and -pushed back the little curtain and looked in and waited. Eldridge took -up the card on the table before him; he fingered it a little awkwardly -and laid it down: “Bring me cigars,” he said. - -The waiter scribbled on a card and passed on. When he had completed the -alcoves on the left he turned and went back along the right, pausing -before each one and bending forward to listen and take the order on his -card. As he approached the third alcove he pushed back the curtain that -half concealed it at the back and bent forward. When he passed on the -curtain did not fall into place; it remained caught on the back of -the seat. From where Eldridge sat he could see the woman seated in the -alcove. She was alone, her back to him, her head a little bent as if in -thought. - -He glanced at her carelessly and along the row of green curtains to the -tables beyond. It was all much as he had imagined it--a place where one -could spend time and money without too much exertion. It was the money -part of it that interested Eldridge. His client had asked him to look -into it for him as an investment, and he had decided on this informal -way of appraising it. To-morrow he was to go over the books and -accounts. The owners wanted a stiff price for the goodwill. It was -probably worth what they were asking he decided as he watched the -careless, happy crowd. People who came here were not thinking how much -they could save.... It was not the sort of place he should care to come -to often himself. Life to Eldridge was a serious, drab affair compared -with Merwin’s. He liked to think how much he could save; and when he had -saved it he liked to invest it where it would breed more.... He might -take a few shares of the capital stock himself--his client had suggested -it. - -The waiter brought the cigars and Eldridge lighted one and leaned back, -smoking and enjoying the relaxed air of the place. He could understand -dimly how people liked this sort of thing and would come day after day -for music and talk and the purposelessness of it all; it was a kind of -huge, informal club with a self-elected membership. - -As a prospective investor the charm of it pleased him. They ought to be -able to make a good thing of it. He fell to making little calculations; -it was part of his power as a successful man of business that he -understood detail and the value of small things. - -He was not a financier, but he handled small interests well and he had -built up a comfortable fortune. From being in debt before he married, -he had advanced slowly until now his investments made a good showing. -He could probably live on the income to-morrow if he chose.... He blew a -little ring of smoke.... His investments and what they were mounting -to was a kind of epic poem to Eldridge’s slow-moving mind.... Yes--he -would take a few shares of the café stock. He looked thoughtfully at -his cigar and calculated how many, and what they would be worth.... The -music had taken the form of a young boy with a violin who stood absorbed -in his playing, a kind of quick fervor in his face and figure. The -voices had ceased and only now and then a cup clicked. - -Eldridge lifted his eyes from the cigar. The woman in the alcove had -moved nearer the end of the seat and was watching the boy, her lips -parted on a half smile. - -The cigar dropped from Eldridge’s fingers. He stared at the -woman--stared--and stirred vaguely. - -She turned a little and Eldridge reached out his hand and drew a quick -curtain between them. - -Through the slit he could still see the figure of the woman, her head -thrown a little back, her eyes following the bow of music as it rose and -fell, and the lips smiling in happy content--He drew a quick breath. - -Slowly a deep flush came into his face--How dared Rosalind come here! It -was a respectable place--of course--but how dared she spend her time and -money--his money and time that belonged to her home and her children--in -a place like this?... Her hands were folded in her lap, and her eyes -followed the music. - -She had barely touched the glass on the table before her, he noted, or -the plate of little biscuit. She seemed to sit in a dream.... His mind -whirled. Six hours before he had said good-by to her at the breakfast -table--a plain, drab woman in shabby clothes, with steel-rimmed -spectacles that looked at him with a little line between the eyes -and reminded him that he needed to order coal for the range and a new -clothes-line.... He had ordered the coal, but he recalled suddenly that -he had forgotten the clothes-line; he had intended to see if he could -get one cheaper at a wholesale place he knew of; his memory held the -clothes-line fast in the left lobe of his brain while the grey matter of -the right lobe whirled excitedly about the woman in the alcove. - -[Illustration: 0025] - -She had raised a lorgnette to her eyes and was looking at the boy -violinist, a little, happy, wistful smile on her lips.... Eldridge had -not seen her smile like that for years. His left lobe abandoned the -clothes-line and recalled to him when it was he saw the little smile, -half wistful, half happy, on her face.... They were standing by the -gate, and he was saying good night; the moon had just come up, and there -was a fragrant bush beside the path that gave out the smell of spring; -the left lobe yielded up fragrance and moonlight and the little wistful -smile while his quick eye followed the lorgnette; it had dropped to -her lap, and her hands were folded on it.... Rosalind--! A gold -lorgnette--and draperies, soft, gauzy lines and folds of silk--and a hat -on her shining, lifted hair, like a vague coronet! Eldridge Walcott held -his cigar grimly between his teeth; the cigar had gone out--both lobes -had ceased to whirl.... A kind of frozen light held his face. His hand -groped for his hat. Why should he not step across the aisle and sit down -in the chair opposite her and confront her?--the green curtains would -shut them in.... Both lobes stared at the thought and held it tight--to -face Rosalind, a grey, frightened woman in her finery, behind the little -green curtains! He shook himself loose and stood up. Softly his hand -drew back the curtain, and he stepped out. They were clapping the boy -violinist, who had played to the end, and Eldridge moved toward the -swinging doors and passed out and stood in the lobby. He wiped his -forehead.... A sound of moving chairs came from behind the doors, and -he crossed the lobby quickly and plunged into the crowd. It was five -o’clock, and the streets were filled with people hurrying home. Eldridge -turned against the tide and crossed a side street and pressed east, his -feet seeming to find a way of their own. He was not thinking where he -would go--except that it must be away from her. He could not face her -yet--Who _was_ she? There was the drab woman of the morning, waiting for -him to come home with the clothesline, and there was the woman of the -alcove, splendid, gentle, with the little smile and the gold -lorgnette.... Rosalind--Fifteen years he had lived with her, and he had -known her ten years before that--there was nothing _queer_ about -Rosalind! He lifted his head a little proudly--The woman he had just -left was very beautiful! It struck him for the first time that she was -beautiful, and he half stopped. - -He walked more slowly, taking it in--Rosalind was not beautiful; she -had not been beautiful--even as a girl--only pretty, with a kind of -freshness and freedom about her and something in her eyes that he -had not understood--It was the look that had drawn him--He was always -wondering about it. Sometimes he saw it in the night--as if it flitted -when he woke. He had not thought of it for years. Something in the -woman’s shoulder and the line of her head was like it. But the woman -was very _beautiful!_--Suppose it were not Rosalind after all! He gave a -quick breath, and his feet halted and went on. Then a thought surged at -him, and he walked fast--he almost ran. No--No--! It was as if he put -his hands over his ears to shut it out. Other women--but not _his_ wife! -She had children--_three_ children! He tried to think of the children -to steady himself. He pictured her putting them to bed at night, bending -above Tommie and winding a flannel bandage tight around his throat for -croup; he could see her quite plainly, the quick, efficient fingers and -firm, roughened hands drawing the bed-clothes in place and tucking them -in.... The woman’s hands had rested so quietly in her lap! Were they -rough?--She had worn gloves--he remembered now--soft gloves, like the -color in her gown.... He stared at the gloves--they were long--they came -to the elbow--yes, there was a kind of soft, lacy stuff that fell away -from them--yes, they were long gloves.... They must have cost---- - -He tried to think what the gloves must have cost, but he had nothing to -go by. Rosalind had never worn such gloves, nor his mother or sisters. -Only women who were very rich wore gloves like that--or women---- - -He faced the thought at last. He had come out where the salt air struck -him; the town and its lights had fallen behind; there was the marsh -to cross, and he was on a long beach, the wind in his face, the water -rolling up in spray and sweeping slowly back--He strode forward, his -head to the wind.... There was no one that she knew--no man.... How -should she know any one that he did not know! - -She was never away.... But was he--sure! How did he know what went -on--all day... half past seven till seven at night? In the evenings she -mended the children’s clothes and he looked over the paper. Sometimes -they talked about things and planned how they could get along. Rosalind -was a good manager. He saw her sitting beside the lamp, in her cheap -dress, her head bent over the figures, working it out with him--and he -saw the woman in the alcove--the clothes she wore--he drew back before -it--more than the whole family spent in a year!... The gloves alone -might have bought her Sunday suit--Sunday was, after all, the only day -he knew where she was--in church with him and, in the afternoon, lying -down in her room while he took the children for a walk.... He was a good -father--he set his teeth to it defiantly, against the wind. She -could not accuse _him_ of neglect.... Suddenly a hurt feeling stirred -somewhere deep down--He did not look at it; he did not know it was -there. But the first shock had passed. He was not bewildered any -more. He could think steadily, putting point to point, building up the -“case”.... Then, suddenly, he would see her in the great spectacles, -reminding him of the clothes-line--and his “case” collapsed like a -foolish little card house.... Not Rosalind--other women, perhaps--but -not Rosalind.... He turned slowly back, the wind behind him urging him -on. He would go home--to her. Perhaps when he saw her he should know -what to think.... But perhaps she had not yet come home. If he hurried -he might get there before her and face her as she came in. He hurried -fast, he almost ran, and when he reached the streets he signalled a cab; -he had not used a cab for years; it would cost a dollar, at least--He -looked out at the half-deserted street--the crowd had thinned. He -held his watch where the light of the street arc flashed across -it--six-thirty. Half an hour before his usual time. He paid the fare -and went quickly up the steps.... The children were talking in the -dining-room. There was no other sound. He opened the door and looked in. -She was standing by the table looking at Tommie’s coat--There was a -rent in the shoulder and the face bent above it had a look of quiet -patience--The grey-drab hair was parted exactly in the middle and combed -smoothly down; the eyes behind the spectacles looked up--with the little -line between them. When she saw who it was she glanced for a moment at -the clock and then back at him--“Did you bring the clothesline?” she -asked. - -He stared at her a moment--at her plain, cheap dress and homely face. -Then he turned away. “I--forgot,” he said. - - - - -II - - -WHEN supper was done and the children in bed she moved about the room -for a few minutes putting things to rights. Eldridge, sitting by the -table, held his newspaper in his hand and now and then he rustled it and -turned it over; his eyes did not leave the little black printed marks, -but his real eyes were not following the marks; they were watching the -woman; they tried to dart upon her in her plainness and make her speak. -There was something monstrous to him--that they should be here together, -in this room--he could have touched her with his hand as she moved past -him--yet they were a thousand miles apart. He cleared his throat; he -would force her, accuse her, make her reveal what was going on behind -the earnest-looking glasses.... He turned the paper and began another -page.... If he were another man he might spring at her--take her by the -throat--force her back--back against the wall--and _make_ her speak! She -had finished tidying the room and came over to the table, the torn coat -in her hand; she was looking down at the frayed threads in the rent, the -little line between her eyes; he did not look up or move; he could hear -her breathing--then she gave a little sigh and laid the coat on the -table.... She was leaving the room. His eyes leaped after her and came -back. - -When she returned she spread the roll of pieces on the table and -selected one, slipping it in beneath the rent; he could see--without -taking his eyes from the page--he could see the anxious, faintly red -knuckles and her fingers fitting the piece in place with deft, roughened -tips. She had a kind of special skill at mending, making old things new. -When they were first married it had been one of their little jokes--how -lucky she was to have married a poor man. He had kissed her fingers one -day--he recalled it--when she had shown him the little skilful darn -in his coat; he had called it a kind of poem and he had kissed her. It -seemed almost shameless to him, behind his paper--the foolishness was -shameless--of kissing her for that.... - -She was sewing swiftly now with the short, still movements that came and -went like breaths; her head was bent over the coat and he could see the -parting of her hair; he dropped his eye to it for a minute and rustled -the paper and turned it vaguely. “I was in at Merwin’s this afternoon,” - he said. - -The needle paused a dart--and went on rhythmically, in and out. “Did you -like it?” she asked. She had not lifted her head from her work. - -He turned a casual page and read on--“Oh, so-so.” It was the sort of -absent-minded talk they often had--a kind of thinking out loud without -interest in one another. - -“It is a popular place, isn’t it?” - -She was smoothing the edges of the patch thoughtfully; there was a -little smile on her lip. - -He folded his paper. “I’m going to bed,” he announced. - -She glanced quickly at the clock and resumed her work. “I must finish -this. He hasn’t any other to wear.” The needle went in and out. - -Eldridge rose and stretched himself above her. He looked down at her--at -the swift-moving hands and grey closeness of her dress. He would like to -take her in his hands and crush out of her the thoughts--make her speak -out the thoughts that followed the swift-going needle; he did not know -that he wanted this--he was only feeling over and over, in some deep, -angry place--“What the devil was she doing there? What the----” - -He moved about the room a minute and ’went out. The woman by the table -sewed on. A bolt shot in the front hall and Eldridge’s feet mounted the -stairs slowly. Then the room was quiet--only the clock and the needle. - -Presently the needle stopped--the woman’s hands lay folded in her lap. -The figure was motionless, the head bent--only across her face moved the -little smile.... The clock travelled round and whirred its warning note -and struck, and she only stirred a little, as if a breath escaped her, -and took up her work, looking at it blindly. - -A sound came in the hall and she looked up. - -He stood in the doorway, his old dressing-gown wrapped around him, his -hands gaunt, with the little hairs at the wrist uncovered by cuffs. - -She looked at him, smiling absently. There was something almost -beautiful in her face as she lifted it to him--“When are you coming to -bed?” he asked harshly. - -“Why, right now, Eldridge--I must have been dreaming.” She gathered up -the work from her lap. “I hope I haven’t kept you awake.” - -He stood looking at her a minute. Then he wheeled about without -response. His feet beneath the bath gown moved awkwardly. But the -spine in the bath gown had a cold, dignified, offended look--a kind of -grotesque stateliness--as it disappeared through the doorway. - -The woman looked after it, the little, gathering smile still on her -face. Then she turned toward the lamp and put it out, and the radiant -smile close to the lamp became a part of the dark. - - - - -III - - -BY morning it had become a dream. - -Eldridge was late and he hurried from the house and hurried all the -morning to catch up. By luncheon time he was in another world. He -took plenty of time for his luncheon; it was one of the things he -had learned--to eat his luncheon slowly and take time to digest it. -Sometimes he read the paper, sometimes he dropped into a moving-picture -show for a few minutes afterward. But to-day he did neither. He sat -in the restaurant--it was a crowded restaurant, all America coming and -going--and he watched it idly. He had a rested, comfortable feeling, -as if he had escaped some calamity. It seemed foolish now, as he looked -back--a kind of fever in the blood that had twisted the commonest things -into queer shape. He looked back over it dispassionately--it was the -woman in Merwin’s who had started it, of course; there _was_ something -about her--something like Rosalind--curiously like her--it was like -what Rosalind _might_ have been, more than what she was--a kind of -spirited-up Rosalind! He smiled grimly. - -He called for his check; and while he waited he saw her again, the -figure of the woman--not in the restaurant--but in a kind of vision--in -the alcove behind the curtain, her head a little bent, her hands folded -quietly in her lap... who _was_ she--? His heart gave a sudden twist and -stopped--He had never felt like this about--any one--had he? He looked -down at a red check, with its stamped black figures, and fumbled in his -pocket--and brought out a coin and laid it beside the check and stared -at it.... The check and the coin slipped away and he stared at the -marble top. Suppose he saw her--again... some time.... Two coins -reappeared on the table and he picked them up. Then he put back one and -felt for his hat and went out.... The traffic shrieked at him and people -jostled him with their elbows and hurried him, and he jostled back and -woke up and shook off the queerness and went about his work.... He was -forty-one years old and his property was all well invested. It had never -occurred to him that he could be different from himself.... He read -in the paper of people who did things--did things different from -themselves, suddenly--people who squandered fortunes in a day, or -murdered and ran away from business--and their wives--people who -committed suicide. Vicariously, he knew all about how queer men could -be... and his chief experience with it all, with this world that his -newspaper rolled before him every day, was a kind of wonder that people -would do such things and a knowledge, deeper than faith or conviction, -that Eldridge Walcott would never do any of them. He explained such -men--if he explained them at all--by saying that they must have a screw -loose somewhere. Perhaps he thought of men, vaguely, as put together -with works inside, carefully adjusted and screwed in place, warranted, -with good usage, to run so long; certainly it had not occurred to him -that a man could change much after he was forty years old. - -He went back to business refreshed, more refreshed than his luncheon -often left him. He thought of Rosalind, now and then, with a kind of -thankfulness--Rosalind waiting for him at night with the children, life -moving on in the same comfortable way. He had even a moment’s flash -of thankfulness to the unknown woman that she had made him see how -comfortable he was, how much he had to be thankful for in his quiet -life. It was a profitable afternoon--the best stroke of business in -six months; and he flattered himself that he handled it well. He felt -unusually alive, alert. On the way home he passed a florist’s and -half stopped, looking down at a beautiful plant that flamed on a bench -outside the door; he did not know what it was; they were all “plants” to -him, except roses--he knew a rose--this was not a rose; he looked at it -a moment and hurried on.... She would think it strange if he brought her -anything like a plant. - -The idea grew with him the next day and the next. Why should he not give -her something? She deserved it. There seemed always some good reason -why her clothes were the last to be bought and the plainest and -shabbiest--and a woman’s clothes could always be made over.... Suppose -she had a new suit--something that was really good--Suppose he got it -for her--would she be in the least like that--other--one--? He had long -ago abandoned the idea that there was a real resemblance between -them. He knew now that he must have been overwrought, excited in some -mysterious way--the woman herself seemed to have excited him. - -The wrong that he had done Rosalind--even in his thought--made him -tender of her. He did not buy a crimson flower to take home to her. But -a week later he called one day at his bank and in the evening he handed -her a little, twisted roll of something. - -She had finished her work and was sitting for a minute before she -brought her sewing basket. He laid the roll in the curve of her fingers -in her lap. - -When she glanced down at it she took it up in short-sighted surprise and -looked at the new, crisp bills--and then at him-- - -He nodded. “For you,” he said. “It’s a new suit--you need it.” He -balanced a little on his toes, looking down at her. - -Her face flushed red; it grew from neck to chin and flooded up to him. -“What do you mean?” she said under her breath. - -“I want you to get a good one--good stuff, good dressmaker--It’s enough, -isn’t it?” - -“It is more--than enough--” The red had flooded her face again--as if -she would cry. But she said nothing for a minute. She was looking down -at the bills. - -Then she looked up. The plain face had a smile like light from somewhere -far away. “May I get just what I like--?” - -He nodded proudly. She was almost beautiful... perhaps--in the new -gown--He pulled himself together.... She had looked down again and was -fingering the bills happily.... “There is a little muff and fur--” she -said. - -He nodded, encouraging--“A muff and fur and a little fur cap that -I wanted--so much--for Mary--and overcoats for the boys--they’re so -shabby--and your hat is really not fit, you know--” She was looking up -now and smiling and checking them off--He stopped her with a gesture. - -“You are to spend it on yourself,” he said almost harshly. - -“On myself--! Why do you say that?” She almost confronted him--as if -she caught her breath--“You never have things and you always get out of -spending things on yourself.” He half muttered the words. - -“Oh--oh--! I shall get something for myself. You will see!” - -He held out his hand. He was a good man of business. No one got far -ahead of him.--“When you have bought the dress I will pay for it,” he -said. “Give them to me. I cannot trust you with them.” - -She looked at him--and at the bills--and they dropped from her hand into -his slowly and her arms fell; her shoulders rose and trembled and the -hands covered her face. She was weeping, deep, silent sobs-- - -[Illustration: 0057] - -He bent over her--ashamed. “You must not do that,” he said. “You needn’t -feel bad. I wanted you to have it--” - -She took down her hands and looked at him. “It seemed so good to -have--enough--more than enough! to be extravagant!” She threw out her -hands with a little wasteful gesture. - -He was looking at her closely. A suspicion leaped at him. Her face -was so free and the tears had made it mysterious and sweet--she was as -wonderful as that other--she was--She was--He stopped with a quick jerk. -“I want you to be extravagant on _yourself!_” he said. He was watching -her face. - -It flamed again but it did not drop before him. Only the eyes sent back -a look--on guard, it seemed to him. “I do not need so much for myself,” - she said quietly, “part of it will be quite enough.” - -He put the bills in his pocket. “All or nothing,” he said easily. - -***** - -All the next day he turned it in his mind--the look in her eyes, the -beauty--something deep within her, shining out.... He no longer went -peacefully about his work. _Could_ it have been Rosalind, after all?... -He had never seen her look like that--he had not dreamed.... But when he -came home at night the look was not there; he fancied that she was more -worn and a little troubled. Certainly, no one could think of her as -beautiful... and why should a man want to think his wife beautiful?... -It was the woman in the alcove that had done the mischief. He should -never get over the woman in the alcove. She had got into his life -whether or not. He could not be comfortable about Rosalind. There was -something about her that he had not known or suspected before. He fell -to watching her when she was not aware. He had thought he knew her so -well and now she was a stranger.... But perhaps it was himself--the -woman had done something to him. Rosalind was the same--but was she? He -looked at her a long time one night as she lay asleep. The moonlight had -come in and was on her face. He watched it--as if a breath might speak -to him--it was not Rosalind’s face. Some stranger was there, out of -a strange land; a great yearning came to him to waken her, to ask -her whence she came, what it was that she knew--what made her face so -peaceful in the moonlight--calling to him? He got up softly and closed -the blind. He remembered he had heard that it was not good for people -to sleep with the moon shining on them--it was only superstition, of -course. But superstition had suddenly changed its bounds for him.... -Were there things, perhaps, that people knew, that they guessed--true -things that they could not explain and did not talk about?... - - - - -IV - - -HE could not bring himself to speak to Rosalind about the woman in -the alcove. He wanted to speak--to do away, once for all, with the -strangeness and the spell she seemed to have cast about him, to speak of -her casually as that woman I saw the other day at Merwin’s; but he could -not do it. It was as if he were afraid--or bashful. He had not felt like -this since--not since he was in love--with Rosalind! He looked at -the thought and turned it over slowly. He was not in love with the -woman--certainly he was not in love with her! He would not know her -again if he met her on the street.... Would he not! Suddenly he felt -that he had known her always--longer than he had known Rosalind--longer -than he had been alive! He found himself wondering about the world--how -it was the world got into existence--what were men doing in it--and -women--and his mind travelled out into space--great stars swung away -mistily--what did it mean--all his world and stars?... Perhaps if he saw -her again, just a few minutes, he would feel like himself again.... It -was worth trying--and how he wanted--to--see her! Well, what of that? -There was nothing wrong in being curious about a woman like that. If she -_had_ some uncanny power over him he might as well find it out--fight -it! - -He was respectable--he was a married man.... And what had Rosalind to do -with it? Perhaps it _was_ Rosalind. He should never quiet down till he -knew. There was something in his blood. The next time he was passing -Merwin’s he would go in.... - -He passed Merwin’s that afternoon--and went in. But she was not there. -He sat a little while in the quiet of the place, looking across to the -alcove where the woman had been. There was no one in it and the curtains -were drawn back. Each time a stir came from the swinging doors or a -dress rustled beside him he half turned and held his breath till it -passed and took its place at one of the little tables or in an alcove. -But the third alcove on the right remained empty. No quiet figure moved -with soft grace and seated itself there... no one but Eldridge saw the -figure--the gentle, bending line of the neck, the little droop of the -face.... If only she would lift it or turn to him a minute.... And -then the still, clear emptiness of the place swept between; the green -curtains framed it, as if it were a picture, a little antechamber -leading somewhere.... - -Eldridge shook himself and took his hat and went out. The doors swung -silently behind him--he would never go in there again! He was a fool--a -soft fool! Then he almost stopped in the crowd of the street.... And he -knew suddenly that he would go back. He would go--again and again--he -could not help himself. But he was _not_ in love--he had been in -love--with Rosalind--and it was not like this.... A policeman thrust out -an arm and stopped him, and he waited for the traffic to stream past.... -He was not in love--only curious about the woman; it teased him not to -know who she was... and why he had been so sure that she was Rosalind. -If he could see her again--just a minute--long enough to make sure, he -would not care if he never saw her again. He was loyal, of course, to -Rosalind, more loyal than he had ever been. It seemed curious how the -woman had made him see Rosalind--all the plainness of her filled with -something strange and sweet--like moonlight or a quiet place. - - - - -V - - -THE next day he went again to Merwin’s. No use for him to say he would -keep away. He knew, all through the drudging accounts in the morning, -that he would go; and while he talked with clients and arranged sales -and managed a real-estate deal--back in the corner of his mind, behind -its green curtains, the little alcove waited. - -He passed through the swinging doors and glanced quickly, and the hand -holding his hat gripped it tight. The curtains of the third alcove to -the right were half closed, but along the floor lay a fold of grey dress -and over the end of the seat, thrown carelessly back, hung the edge of a -fur-lined wrap. - -Eldridge turned blindly toward his place. Some one was there. He had -to take the alcove behind, and he could not see her from the alcove -behind--not even if she should push back the curtain that shut her -away--But he found himself, strangely, not caring to see her.... She was -there, a little way off; it was she--no need to part the curtains and -look in on her. He felt her presence through all the place. He was no -longer guilty.... He was hardly curious to know her. He took up the card -from the table before him and studied it blindly.... His heart seemed to -lie out before him--a clear, white place.... Men and women were not so -evil as he had dreamed. He was doing something that a week ago he would -have condemned any one for; yet his heart, as he looked into it, was -singularly clear and big--and the light shining in it puzzled him--like -a charm--It was a place that he had never seen; he had dreamed of it, -perhaps, as a child. He ordered something, at random, from the card and -moved nearer the aisle.... No, he could not see her--only the fold of -her dress and the bit of grey fur. He was glad she was warmly dressed. -The weather was keener to-day. He must get Rosalind a wrap--something -warm like that and lined with fur--soft and grey and deep. Everything -the woman had he would like Rosalind to have--perhaps it might atone--a -little--for the light in his heart. He had not felt like this for -Rosalind.... But how should they have known. They were only a boy and -girl--and some moonlight.... And all the time this other woman was -waiting--somewhere.... No one had told him. If some one had said to him: -“Wait, she is coming--you must wait!” But no one knew, no one had told -him.... Did _she_ know, across there in her place, did she know--had she -waited--for him? He stirred a little. Some one might be with her now; -or she might be waiting for some one. But he could not go to her.... -And yet--why not--?--He had only to cross the aisle--and put back the -curtains--and look at her.... He shook himself and lifted his glass and -drank grimly. He was a lawyer; his name was Eldridge Walcott; he lived -in a brick house and he had children--three children--_That_ was the -real world; this other thing was--madness.... So this was the way -men felt! This was it, was it--very clean and whole--as if life were -beginning for them--they had made mistakes, but they would try again; -they saw something bigger and better than they had ever known--and they -reached out to it. Men were not wicked, as he had thought--It was a -strange world where you had to be wicked to do things--like this!... And -there might be some one with her now! Under the voices and the music he -fancied he could hear them talking in low tones; their voices seemed to -come and go vaguely; half guessed, not constant, but quiet and happy.... -Or was it his own heart that beat to her--the words it could speak?... -He would not speak to her--but he would not go away.... He would wait -till she moved back the curtain and stepped out. - -Then he half remembered something--and looked at his watch--he had -promised Rosalind to wait for the boys and take them to the dentist’s. -She had said she could not go this afternoon and he had promised to wait -at the office; he had not meant to come here.... He slipped back the -watch and stood up and hesitated--and turned away. He might never -see her now. Well, he had promised Rosalind. Somehow, the promise to -Rosalind must be kept--now. The letter of the law must be kept! - -***** - -They were waiting for him in the hall by his office door, sitting at the -top of the flight of stairs and peering down into the elevator-shaft as -the elevator shot up and down. He saw them as he stepped out, and smiled -at them. They were fresh, wholesome boys, and he had a sense, as he -fitted the key in the lock and they stood waiting behind his bent back, -that they belonged to him. He had always thought of them as Rosalind’s -boys! - -He threw open the door and they went in, looking about them almost -shyly; they were not shy boys, but father was a big man--and they looked -at the place where he worked.... Some time they would be--men and have -an office.... - -Eldridge Walcott turned back from the desk that he had opened. He had -taken out a little roll of paper and slipped it into his pocket. Their -eyes followed him gravely. He looked at them standing--half in their -world, half in his--and smiled to them. - -“You had to wait a good while, didn’t you?” he said. - -They nodded together. “Most an hour,” said Tommie. - -“Well, that’s all right--Something kept me. Come on.” - -When they reached home that evening he handed the little roll of paper -he had taken from the desk to Rosalind. “I have doubled it,” he said. - -“There will be enough for everything you want.” - -For a minute she did not speak. Then she took it. “Thank you,” she said -slowly. - -“I want you to get a suit, you know--a good one--” He paused. “--And you -need something warm--a fur-lined wrap or something--don’t you?” - -She wrinkled the little line between her eyes. “It is--so late--the -winter is half gone already.” Then her face cleared. “I think -I’ll--wait till spring,” she said. - -He could almost fancy something danced at him, mocked him behind the -still face. - -He turned away, the deep, hurt feeling coming close. “Get what you -like,” he said. “I want you to have enough.” - -The money lay in her hand, and her fingers opened on it and closed on -it. Then she breathed softly, like a sigh, and went to her desk and put -it away. - - - - -VI - - -THROUGH the weeks that followed Eldridge watched the things money could -buy quietly taking their place in the house. Little comforts that he had -not missed--had not known any one could miss--were at hand. The children -looked somehow subtly different. He had a sense of expansion, softly -breaking threads of habit, expectancy. Only Rosalind seemed unchanged. -Yet each time he looked at her he fancied that she _had_ changed--more -than all of them. He could not keep his eyes from her. Something was -hidden in her--Something he did not know--that he would never -know. Perhaps he should die and not know it.... Did the dead -know things--everything? He seemed to remember hazily from -Sunday-school--something--If he were dead, he might come close to -her--as close as the little thoughts behind her eyes---- - -The cold grew keener, and Eldridge, shivering home from the office, -remembered a pair of fur gloves in the attic. He had not worn them for -years. But after supper he took a light and went to look for them. - -It was cold there, in the attic, and he shivered a little, looking about -the dusty place. There were boxes stacked along under the eaves and -garments hanging grotesquely from the beams. He knew where Rosalind kept -the gloves; he had seen them one day last summer when he was looking for -window netting. It had not seemed to him then, in the hot attic, that -any one could ever need gloves. He set down the lamp on a box and drew -out a trunk and looked in it; they were not there. She must have changed -the place of things--he would have to go down and ask her. - -Then his eye sought out a box pushed far back under the eaves--he did -not remember that he had ever seen that box; he glanced at it--and half -turned away to pick up the lamp--and turned back. He could not have told -why he felt that he must open it. He had set the light on a box a -little above him, and it glimmered down on the box that he drew out and -opened--and on a smooth piece of tissue-paper under the cover----A faint -perfume came from beneath the paper, and he lifted it. There was a pair -of long grey gloves--with the shape of a woman’s hand still softly held -in the finger-tips.... He lifted them and stared and moistened his lips -and ran his hand down inside the box to the bottom--soft, filmy stuff -that yielded and sprang back.... He kneeled before it, half on his -heels, peering down. He bent forward and lifted the things out--white -things with threaded ribbon and lace--things such as Eldridge Walcott -had never seen--delicate, web-like things--then a fur-lined coat and a -grey dress and, at the bottom, a little linked something. He lifted it -and peered at it and at the coins shining through the meshes and dropped -it back. - -He stood up and looked about him vaguely... after a minute he shivered -a little. It was very cold in the attic. He knelt down and tried to put -the things back; but his fingers shook, and the things took queer shapes -and fell apart, and a soft perfume came from them that confused him. -He tried to steady himself--he began at the bottom, putting each thing -carefully in place... smoothing it down. - -The door below creaked. A voice listened.... “You up there, Eldridge?” - -He straightened himself... out of a thousand thoughts and questions. -“Where are my fur gloves?” he said quietly. He took the light from its -box and came over to the stairs. - -Her face, lifted to him, was in the light and he could see the rays of -light falling on it--and on the stillness, like a pool.... - -“They’re in the black trunk,” said Rosalind. Her foot moved to the -stair--“I’ll get them for you.” - -“No--Don’t come up,” he said. “It’s cold here. I know--I was just -looking there.” - -So she went back, closing the door behind her to keep out the cold. - -When Eldridge came down he did not look at her. He blew out the light -and put the gloves with his hat in the hall and came over with his paper -and sat down. - -She was standing by the fire, bending over a pair of socks that she had -been washing out. She was hanging them in front of the fire, pulling -out the toes. Her eyes looked at him inquiringly as her fingers went on -stretching the little toes. - -“Did you find them?” - -“Yes.” He opened his paper slowly. She went on fussing at the socks, a -little, absent smile on her face. “If it keeps on like this I must get -heavier flannels for them,” she said. The look in her face was very -sweet as she bent over the small socks. - -He looked up--and glanced away. “Money enough--have you?” - -“Oh, yes--plenty of money. I will get them to-morrow--if I can go in to -town--” she said. - -His mind flashed to the attic above them and to the quiet alcove with -the little green curtains that shut it off. “Better dress warm if you do -go,” he said carelessly. “It is pretty cold, you know.” He took up the -paper and stared at it. - - - - -VII - - -SO it was--Rosalind! He sat in his office and stared at the blotter on -his desk.... It was a green blotter-----For years after Eldridge -Walcott could not see a green blotter without a little, sudden sense -of upheaval; he would walk into a plain commercial office--suddenly the -walls hovered, the furniture moved subtly--even the floor grew a little -unsteady before he could come with a jerk to a green blotter on the -roller-top desk--and face it squarely. The blotter on his own desk was -exchanged for a crimson one--the next day. He would have liked to -change everything in the room. The very furniture seemed to mock him--to -question.... - -So it was--Rosalind! Rosalind--was like that--! His heart gave a -quick beat--like a boy’s--and stood still.... Rosalind was like -that--for--somebody else.... He stared at the blotter and drew a pad -absently toward him. - -The office boy stuck his head in the door and drew it back. He shook it -at a short, heavy man with a thinnish, black-grey beard who was hovering -near. “He told me not to disturb him--not for anybody,” the boy said -importantly. - -The man took a card from his pocket and wrote on it. “Take him that.” - The boy glanced at the name and at the thin, blackish beard. There was -a large wart on the man’s chin where the beard did not grow. The boy’s -eyes rested on it--and looked away to the card. “I ’ll--ask him--” he -said. - -The man nodded. “Take him that first.” - -The boy went in. - -The man walked to the window and looked down; the thick flesh at the -back of his neck overlapped a little on the collar of his well-cut coat -and the heavy shoulders seemed to shrug themselves under the smooth fit. - -The boy’s eyes surveyed the back respectfully. “You’re to come in,” he -says. - -The man turned and went in and Eldridge Walcott looked up. “I’m sorry to -have kept you waiting.” - -“That’s all right.” The man sat down a little heavily--as if he were -tired. “That’s all right. I waited because I wanted to see you. I want -some one to do--a piece of work--for me--” - -“Yes?” - -“I don’t care to have my regular man on it--” - -“You have Clarkson, don’t you?” - -“Yes--I have Clarkson.” The man waited. “Clarkson’s all right--for -business,” he said. “I want a different sort--for this.” - -He felt in the pocket of his coat and drew out a letter, and then -another, and held them, looking down at them absently, turning them over -in his hand. - -“It’s a divorce--” he said. He went on turning the letters in his hand -but not looking at them. “I’ve waited as long as I could,” he added -after a minute. “It’s no use--” He laid the letters on the desk. -“It took a detective--and money--to get ’em. I reckon they’ll do the -business,” he said. - -Eldridge reached out his hand for them. The man’s errand startled him a -little. He had been going over divorce on the green blotter when the boy -came in. He opened the letters slowly. A little faint perfume drifted -up--and between him and the words came a sense of the blackish-grey -beard and the wart in among it. He had stared at it, fascinated, while -the man talked.... He could imagine what it might mean to a woman, day -after day. He focussed his attention on the letter--and read it and took -up the other and laid it down.... - -“Yes--Those are sufficient,” he said almost curtly. He took up his pen. -“Your middle initial is J?” - -“Gordon J.,” said the man. - -Eldridge traced the name. “And your wife?” - -The man stared at him. - -“Her full name--” said Eldridge. - -“Her name is Cordelia Rose--Barstow,” said the man. - -Eldridge wrote it efficiently. “Do you name any one as co-respondent?” - -“I name--his name is--” The man gulped and his puffy face was grim. -“John E. Tower is his name,” he said slowly. - -Eldridge filled in the paper before him and laid a blotter across it. -“That is sufficient. I will file the application to-morrow. There will -be no trouble. She will not contest it--?” - -The man swallowed a little. “No--She wants--to be free--” He ended the -words defiantly, but with a kind of shame. - -Eldridge made no reply. He was seeing a quiet figure, with bent head, -smiling at something--something that shut him out. He looked across to -the man. - -The man’s eyes met his. “That’s all you need--is it?” He seemed a little -disappointed. “No more to it than this?” - -“That’s all,” said Eldridge. - -But the man did not get up. “I don’t know how it happened,” he said. -“You see, I never guessed--not till two weeks--ten days ago or so.” - -“I see--” - -“I’d always trusted Cordelia--I hadn’t ever thought as she could do -anything like that--not _my_ wife!” - -“One doesn’t usually expect it of one’s--own wife.” Eldridge laughed a -little, but it was not unkindly, and the man seemed to draw toward him. - -“I’ve never mentioned it--except to that detective, and I didn’t tell -him--any more than I had to--He didn’t seem to need much telling--” - he said dryly. “He seemed to sense just about what had been going -on--without telling.” - -“Yes--?” Eldridge was looking thoughtfully into the greyish-black beard -with the round lump in it. - -“He’s got the facts. It took him just two weeks--to get ’em.” His hand -motioned toward the letters, but there was something in the face--a kind -of puffy appeal. - -Eldridge nodded. “They know what to do,” he said quietly. - -“I hadn’t even mistrusted,” said the man. His eyes were looking at -something that Eldridge could not see--something that seemed to -come from a faint perfume in the room.... “I can see it plain enough -now--looking back.... You don’t mind my telling you--a little--about -it.” Eldridge shook his head. The man seemed a kind of lumbering boy, -yet he was a shrewd, keen man in business. - -“It might help--you know--” he said. “I thought you’d ask me, -probably--I’d kind of planned to tell you, I guess.” He laughed a little -awkwardly. - -“Go ahead,” said Eldridge. - -“He was _my_ friend, you see. And I brought him home with me and made -’em friends.... I can see now, looking back, what a fool I was--about -it. But I didn’t see it--then. I don’t know now what it was about -him.... He’s old as I be--and I’ve got the money. I can give her -everything she wants--more than he can. But I know now that from the -first day she see him she was curious about him.... I’d brought him home -to dinner one night--It was just after we were married.... I always kind -of think of him that night--the way he looked at table--he’s tall--You -know him--?” - -Eldridge nodded. He was seeing the tall, distinguished figure--and -beside it a humped-up one across his desk. - -“We had red lamp-shades and candles and flowers--Everything shining, you -know--Cordelia likes ’em that way.... When I try to think how it started -I see ’em the way they looked that first night. I was proud of ’em both. -I felt as if Cordelia belonged to me--and as if he did, too--in a way--” - He looked at Eldridge. “I’d put him on to a good thing in business--!” - -“Yes.” - -“He and Cordelia laughed and talked the whole evening--kind o’ took it -up--back and forth--the way you’d play ball. I could see Cordelia liked -him. I was a fool. I’d waited about getting married till I had money -enough to give a woman--to give her everything--and when she’d got it -I never see there might be--something else she’d want.... I don’t just -know what now--” He shook his head. - -“Some days, since I’ve got sure of it, I’ve felt as if it _couldn’t_ be -so--as if she couldn’t have gone on living with me and having that other -life--I didn’t know about--shut away from me--and I loving her....” - The little, clear alcove moved before Eldridge and moved away. He was -making absent marks on the edge of the pad before him. - -The man sighed. “Well--It isn’t any use! That’s all, I guess--” Eldridge -looked up. “Had you thought of--winning her back?” - -The man shook his head. “I couldn’t do it.” He looked at him as if -wondering whether he would understand. “There’s something about her I -don’t get at,” he said slowly. - -“Isn’t there something about any woman you don’t get at?” said Eldridge. - -“That’s it!” assented the man. “It isn’t just Cordelia. It’s all of -them--in back of ’em, somehow. I can’t tell you just how it is, but -I’ve thought of it a lot--I guess there isn’t anything I haven’t thought -of--since I knew--lying awake nights and thinking. Somehow, I knew, the -first day it came to me--I knew there wasn’t any use... since the day I -come on ’em at Merwin’s.” - -The lawyer’s hand, making its little marks, stopped--and went on. “They -were at Merwin’s--together?” he said. - -“Everybody goes to Merwin’s,” said the man. “It wasn’t their being -there; it was the way they looked when I saw ’em.... They were sitting -in one of them little alcove places, you know--” - -Eldridge nodded. Yes--he knew. - -“The curtains were open--wide open,” said the man. “Anybody could -’a’ looked in. There wasn’t anything wrong about it. But I saw their -faces--both of ’em--and I knew.... They were just sitting quiet--the way -people do when they’re alone.... There’s something different about -the way people sit--when they’re alone--by themselves--I don’t know as -you’ve ever noticed it?” - -“I have noticed it,” said Eldridge. “Quiet and happy--” said the -man, “and not talking--and not needing to talk.” He took up his -hat. “Well--you know where to find me. I shan’t bother you like this -again----” He stood up. - -Eldridge held out a hand. “I am glad you told me. It helps--to -understand--the case.” - -The man’s thick face looked at him. “I don’t understand it myself,” he -said, “but I’ve got to go through with it.” - - - - -VIII - - -ELDRIDGE went on making little marks on the edge of the paper. He no -longer stared at the blotter; he was seeing things. Gordon Barstow’s -recital had shown things to him in perspective and his own trouble -seemed moved far away from him to a kind of clear place. He sat and -looked at it--making little marks on the paper. Rosalind was not to -blame. A woman like Rosalind had the right--she could do what she -wanted! What had _he_ ever done to win her--to keep her? Not even money. -He had kept it for himself--and built up a comfortable fortune.... -He had the fortune--yes. And he had lost Rosalind.... He suddenly saw -himself in the clear light--he was not lovable like old Barstow. -The vision grew before him--all his saving closeness, his dulness--a -lifeless prig!... And then the picture of Rosalind, the vision of her in -her alcove--“the way people sit when they are alone--I don’t know as you -ever noticed--?” old Barstow had said. - -Well, then--what was to be done? His shoulders squared a little. No man -was going to win Rosalind--without a fight! The man who would win her -should reckon with him.... He had never known Rosalind. Perhaps Rosalind -had never known him.... What had he given her--to know him by? She had -had the right to work for him, to sweep his floors and make his bed -and take care of the children... She should have money now. She should -become a partner--in all his plans--and suddenly El-dridge Walcott saw -that money would not win her--money would not buy the gracious presence -in the alcove; she did not need money.... He must give his soul--to -win her--Then he took out his soul and looked at it--the shrunken, dry, -rattling thing--and flicked it from him with a finger-nail. - -The office boy put his head in cautiously. - -“What do you want?” said Eldridge harshly. - -“It’s Mr. Dutton,” said the boy. - -“Well, show him in.” - -And while Mr. Dutton talked of real estate, Eldridge’s soul peeped out -at the man. He wanted to stop the flow of facts and figures and put -a straight question to him. “How do you get on with your wife, Mr. -Dutton?” he wanted to say to him. He could see the man’s startled face -checked in its flow of fact.... It would not do; of course it would not -do to ask him how he got on with his wife. Probably he got on with her -as Eldridge Walcott had done--sewing, sweeping, eating, saving--“So I -have decided,” the man was saying, “to take the entire block--if the -title is good.” - -Eldridge Walcott bowed him out and turned back from the door. But he did -not sit down. He would go to Merwin’s. Perhaps she was there--she had -said she might come in to town.... But, with his hand on the door, he -paused----Suppose he found her--What then?--and the man with her? What -then?--Suppose he found her! There was nothing he could do--not yet! He -would win her back.... But the man he had to reckon with was not the man -sitting with her now, perhaps, in the alcove. The man he had to reckon -with was Eldridge Walcott--the little, shrunken, undersized Eldridge -Walcott. - -He saw it--standing with his hand on the door, looking down--and he -looked at it a long minute. - -Then he opened the door. - -The office boy wheeled about from the window-shade that was stuck -halfway up. - -“I am ready to see anybody that comes, Burton,” he said. - -“All right,” said the boy. “This old thing gets stuck every other day!” - He jerked at it. - -Eldridge came across and looked at the cord and straightened it and went -back to his room. The little incident strengthened him subtly. He had -never yet failed in anything he undertook, big or little--he had always -succeeded in what he undertook--And suddenly he saw that Eldridge -Walcott had never in his life undertaken anything that was not small.... -He had done small, safe things. He had straightened window-shades all -his life--and he had never failed! - -He had always had a half-veiled contempt for men who ran risks. Find -a safe thing and hold on to it had been his policy. It had brought him -through smugly. He had never made a mistake.... The nearest he had ever -come to a risk was before he asked Rosalind to marry him. There had -been something about her that he could not fathom, something that drew -him--and made him afraid--a kind of sweet mystery... that would not -let him be safe. Then it had seemed so safe afterward; they had lived -together quietly without a break. The young Rosalind who had taught him -to be afraid he had forgotten--and now young Rosalind had come back... -she had come back to him and with deeper mystery.... This was the real -Rosalind, the other was only a shadowy promise.... The young Rosalind -would try him for his soul--and he had--no soul! - -Who was that other man in the alcove with her--the man who had won her? -Who was it she had found to understand the mystery--to look up to her -and worship her--as he had worshipped Rosalind, the girl; as he had -worshipped Rosalind--and let her go! - -And he had been thinking about divorce! Thinking of the grounds for it -and how he should get grounds of divorce--as Gordon Barstow had done. He -glanced at the two letters on his desk and at the little, jotted notes -of the Barstow case and a smile flitted to them--grounds for divorce -from Rosalind! He saw her, in her freedom, moving from him.... His teeth -set a little. She should never leave him! She should stay with him. She -should stay because he wanted her--and because she wanted him! - -And through the rest of the day, as clients came and went, he saw -something new. He saw cases differently. Men were accustomed to come -to him because he was a “safe” man.... Well, he was not quite safe -to-day--But he knew underneath, as he worked, that his advice had never -been so worth while. - - - - -IX - - -HE had left the office early and had caught a car that was passing the -corner as he came out. As soon as he entered he knew that Rosalind was -in the car, three seats ahead. He gave a little start, a quick flash--he -did not want to catch Rosalind off guard--Then he smiled; it was not -Rosalind of the alcove--it was the plain, every-day Rosalind, her lap -heaped with bundles, and bundles on the seat beside her. Rosalind’s -flannels, he thought, probably. - -He moved down the aisle and stood beside the seat, lifting his hat and -looking down at her. - -“Why, Eldridge!” She looked up with the little peering smile and made a -place for him among the bundles, trying to gather them up into her lap. - -But he swept them away. “I’ll take these,” he said. - -The little distressed look came between her eyes. Eldridge couldn’t -bear bundles. “I thought I wouldn’t wait to have them sent,” she -apologized. “It’s so cold--and they need them--right off.” - -“Yes--” He looked at her jacket; it was thin, with the shabby lining -showing at the edge. “Did you get yourself a warm wrap?” he asked. - -She was looking out of the window, and the line of her cheek flushed -swiftly. “No--I--” - -“I want you to do it--at once.” - -She glanced at him--a little questioning look in her face. -“I--have--seen something I like--” she said. - -“Get it to-morrow. I will order it for you when I go in.” - -Her hands made a gesture above the bundles. “Please don’t, Eldridge. I -would rather--do it--myself.” - -“Very well. But remember to get it.” - -“Yes--I will get it.” She sighed softly. - -Deceitful Rosalind! If he had not seen for himself the box in the attic -with its overflowing soft colors and the grey fur, he would not have -believed the deceit of her face.... - -Not that he was blaming anybody. He was not blaming Rosalind. The -picture of Mr. Eldridge Walcott remained with him.... He was not likely -to forget how Mr. Eldridge Walcott had looked to him--in the flash of -light. - -Perhaps he looked like that to Rosalind--to both Rosalinds! He turned -a little in the seat and glanced down at her--Yes, they were both -there--the plain little figure in its shabby jacket and the reticent, -beautiful woman of the alcove. - -The fingers in cheap gloves were fussing at a parcel. “I got -fleece-lined shirts for Tommie--his skin is so sensitive--I thought I -would try fleece-lined ones for him.” - -Damn fleece-lined ones! Would she never talk to him except of -undershirts--and coal-hods? He took the paper from his pocket and -glanced casually at it. - -“Has coal gone up?” she asked. “They said it would go up--if it stayed -cold.” The anxious, lines were in her face. - -He put down the paper and leaned toward her. He felt nearer to her, in a -street car, than in his own home. “Don’t you worry about coal, Rosalind! -We shall not freeze--nor starve.” - -She stared a little. “Of course, we shall not freeze, Eldridge!” - -“I mean there is plenty--to be comfortable with. You are not to worry -and pinch.” - -A quick look flooded out at him--a look of the Rosalind within. “You -mean we can _afford_ not to worry?” - -He saw the prig Eldridge Walcott, walking in serene knowledge of a -comfortable income while the little lines had gathered in her face. He -longed to kick the respectable Mr. Eldridge Walcott from behind. - -“There is quite enough money,” he said. “I am doing better than I -have--and I shall do better yet.” - -She looked down at the bundles. “I might have got a better quality,” she -said. - -“Take them all back,” said Eldridge. “I’ll take them--” - -But she shook her head. “No, they need them to-morrow--and these will -do--” She smiled at them. “It’s really more the feeling that you _can_ -get better ones, isn’t it? You don’t mind wearing old things--if you -know you could have better ones--if you wanted to--” She broke off -vaguely. - -He saw the box in the attic--all the filmy softness--and he saw the -ill-fitting, cheap gloves resting in her lap--That was what had saved -her--the real Rosalind. Some one had seen that her soul should be in its -own clothes, now and then, and happy and free. You could not quite be -jealous of a man who had done that for you--who had clothed Rosalind’s -soul, could you? - -He could not think of the man who had clothed Rosalind’s soul--who had -kept alive something that was precious. He could not hate the man. But -there was no place in his thoughts for him. - -Suppose, after all, Rosalind belonged to the man who saw her soul and -clothed it? Suppose Rosalind belonged to him!... Very well--_he should -not have her!_ - -He helped her from the car with her bundles, and as he fitted the key in -the door the wind struck them fiercely; they were almost blown in with -the force of it as the door opened. They stood in the hall, laughing, -safe--the wind shut out----There was a quick color in her face, and it -lifted to him, laughing freshly, like a girl’s. - -They were together. She had not looked at him like that for years. - -He pondered on the look as she went about getting supper. He watched her -come and go and wondered awkwardly whether he might not offer to go out -and help. He went at last into the kitchen; she was putting coal on the -fire and he took the hod from her, throwing on the coal. - -She looked at him, puzzled. “Are you in a hurry for supper, Eldridge?” - -“Oh--No.” He went back to the living-room, and talked a little with the -children, amusing them quietly. He had a home sense, a feeling that the -room was a kind of presence; the wind howling outside could not touch -them.. - -And when Rosalind came in and they sat at the table and he looked across -to her shyly, almost like a boy, he wished he knew what would please her -best. He could not keep his eyes off her hand as it grasped the handle -of the teapot and poured his tea. It seemed such a mysterious hand with -the roughened finger pricks--and the little gentle hand inside that did -no work. He wanted to take the hand, to touch it.... Of course, a man -would not take his wife’s hand--like that. He could see the startled -look in Rosalind’s eyes if he should reach out.... There was a long road -to travel--and he did not know the way. - -But he could begin softly with clothes--and touch her hand later -perhaps. She should have beautiful things------He had told her to buy -the fur-lined coat. - -He pictured her in it--the coat that _his_ money should buy--he saw -her wrapped in it, and he sat still thinking of her and of the coat his -money should buy. Then the door opened and he looked up. - -She was standing in the door--and about her was a long grey coat lined -with fur--the coat of the alcove. Her eyes looked at him over the soft -fur of the collar. - -He sprang to his feet--then he checked the word on his lip. - -He must not let her speak. It was the coat of the alcove. She would wear -it silently. But she would not tell him. She must not be frightened into -saying something that was not true. He came over to her and touched the -edge of the fur, as if questioning it, and she smiled and opened it out. -“Is it warm enough?” she asked proudly. - -She stood with the garment extended like wings, and he held his breath. - -Then she drew it together softly. - -“I have had it some time,” she said. “I was keeping it to surprise you!” - -His breath came quick. How much would she tell him? He looked at it -critically. “Was it a bargain?” he asked.. - -“No--Not a bargain.” And she stroked the edge of the fur. “I saw it and -liked it--and I got it.” - -“That’s right. That’s the way to buy all your clothes.” He looked at it -a minute lightly and turned away. - -She could not have guessed from his gesture that he was disappointed, -but her eyes followed him. “I hope you won’t think I paid too much--for -it?” - -“What did you pay?” he asked. His back was toward her. - -“I paid--two hundred dollars,” she said. The words came lightly, and -there was a little pause. - -“No, I don’t think that was too much.” He had turned and was looking at -her--straight. “I would have paid more than two hundred--to give it to -you,” he said slowly. - -She made no reply, but her eyes regarded him gravely over the edge of -the collar. Wrapped in the coat, she seemed for a moment the woman of -the alcove. - -He looked at her blindly. - -She returned the look a minute--and turned away slowly and went out. - -Eldridge walked to the table and stood looking down.... He had given -her, in all, not more than two hundred and fifty dollars. Did she expect -him--to believe--that all the things that had come into the house since -had not cost more than fifty dollars? - -It was as if she flaunted it at him--as if she wanted him to know that -it could not have been _his_ money that bought it!... So that was it! -She had seen--she had guessed the change in him--and this was her guard? -She would force him to know--to accuse her. - -Old Barstow’s words came to him mockingly: “No--she will not contest it. -She wants--to be--free.” - - - - -X - - -BUT if she wished him to know she gave no other sign. - -She spent the money that he gave her, and when it was gone she asked him -for more. - -Only once she had said as she took it: “You are sure it is right for me -to spend this?” - -And he had replied: “When you ask for anything I cannot give you I will -let you know.” - -She had said nothing. She had not even glanced at him. But somehow he -fancied that she understood him. - -He grew to know, by intuition, the days when she would go to Merwin’s. - -As he left the house he would say: “She will be there--” And when he -dropped in, in the afternoon, he did not even need to glance at the -alcove on the right. He would sit down quietly in his place across the -aisle, glad to be with her. - -He never saw her come and go and he did not know whether any one was -with her--behind her curtain. He tried not to know.... He was trying to -understand Rosalind. What was it drew her? Was it music--or the quiet -place? Or was there------? - -He could easily have known.... Gordon Barstow’s detective would -have made sure for him in a day.... But Eldridge did not want to -know--anything that a detective could tell him. He did not want to be -told by detectives or told things detectives could tell. He was studying -Rosalind’s every wish--as if he were a boy. - -He did not go to Merwin’s till he felt sure that she would be there in -the alcove, and he left before she drew the little curtain and came out. -He did not want to know.... He only wanted her to be there--and to sit -with her a little while, quietly.... - -He would wait and understand. - -A piano had come into the house and the boys were taking lessons. One -day he discovered that Rosalind was learning, too. - -He had come home early, wondering whether he would ask her to go for a -walk with him. He had asked her once or twice and they had gone for -a little while before supper, walking aimlessly through the suburban -streets, saying very little; he had fancied that Rosalind liked it--but -he could not be sure. - -He opened the door with his latchkey and stepped in. Some one was -playing softly, stopping to sing a little, and then playing again.... -Rosalind was alone. - -[Illustration: 0127] - -He stood very quiet in the dark hall; only a little light from above the -door--shining on the stair rail and on a lamp that hung above it.... She -was playing with the lightest touch--a few notes, as if feeling her -way, and then the little singing voice answering it.... So she was like -this--very still and happy--and he was shut out. His hand groped behind -him for the latch and found it and opened the door, and he stepped -outside and closed the door softly. - -He stood a moment in the wind. Behind his door he heard the music -playing to itself.... - -He walked for a long time that afternoon--along the dull streets, -staring at brick houses and at children running past him on brick -walks.... It was all brick walks and long rows of houses--and dulness; -he could not reach Rosalind. He could buy clothes for her--more -bricks... and there was the music--his mind halted--and went on. - -Music made her happy--like that! He bought an evening paper and studied -it awhile, standing by the newsstand, with the cars and taxis shooting -past. Presently he folded the paper and took a car that was going toward -town. There was something he could do for Rosalind--something that no -one had thought of--something that she would like! - -He was as eager and as ignorant as a boy, standing in front of the -barred ticket window and looking in. - -“Tickets for the Symphony?” The man glanced out at him. “House sold -out.” - -Eldridge stared back. “You mean--I cannot--get them!” - -“Something may come in. You can leave your name.” The man pushed paper -and pencil toward him. - -Eldridge wrote his name slowly. “I want--good ones.” - -“Can’t say--” said the man. - -“There are six ahead of you--” He took up the paper and made a note. - -Eldridge stepped outside. A man looked at him and moved up, falling into -step beside him. “I have a couple of tickets--” he said softly. - -He did not know that he was speaking to a man on a quest, a man who -would have paid whatever he might ask for the slips of paper in his -hand--They were not mere symphony tickets he sold. They were tickets to -the fields of the sun. He asked five dollars for them; he might have got -fifty. - -Eldridge slipped them into his pocket. He stepped back into the hall. “I -shall not need those tickets,” he said. - -The man in the window glanced at him, indifferent, and crossed out a -name. - -All the way home Eldridge’s heart laughed. Would she like it?... She -had played so softly... she would listen like that--and he would be with -her.... He could not keep the tickets in his pocket. He took them out -and looked at them--two plain blue slips with a few black marks on -them.... And he had thought of it himself!--It was not Mr. El-dridge -Walcott’s money that bought them for her.... Would she understand it was -not money--? - -She took them from him with half-pleased face--“For the Symphony?” she -said. - -“I thought you might--we--. might like it--” - -She looked at them a minute. “I never went to a symphony--” - -“Nor I--” He laughed a little. “I thought we might--try it.” - -She was still regarding them thoughtfully. “I haven’t anything to -wear--have I--?” She looked up with the wrinkled line between her eyes. - -“Wear your--” He checked it on his tongue. “Get something--There’s a -week, you know. You can get something, can’t you?” - -“Yes, if you think I ought--” - -“Of course--get what you need.” She waited thoughtfully.... “I have--a -dress that might do--with a little changing--” she said. - -He saw with a flash, suddenly, the dark attic above them--and a man on -his knees staring down at the grey and shimmering whiteness. “Better get -something new, wouldn’t you?” said Eldridge. - -“Perhaps--I will think--about it.” - -He could not have told which he wished-----But when, the night of the -concert, she came down to him wearing the grey dress and long grey -gloves, with the lace falling softly back--he knew in the flash, as he -looked at her, that he was glad.... - -She was buttoning one of the gloves and the long grey coat hung from her -arm. She did not look up. - -He took it from her and wrapped her in it. - -They were going to another world--together. She was going--with him. - -There was a little, quiet flush in her face as she sat in the car. Other -people were going to the concert, and she looked at them as they came in -and sat down. - -And Eldridge looked at Rosalind. He did not speak to her.... They -were going to a new world--and the car was taking them.... Bits of -talk--color--drifting fragrance as the coats fell back.... The woman -across the aisle had a bunch of violets.... - -Why had he not thought to get violets for Rosalind! Would she have liked -flowers--? She seemed a strange Rosalind, sitting beside him in the -car in her grey dress--her eyes like little stars.... They had three -children... and a brick house.... - -The car jolted on. Eldridge would have wished that it might never -stop.... There would not be another night like this. He could put out -his hand and touch mystery.... Then he was helping her over the crowded -street and they were in the hall--with flowers everywhere--and something -close about you that touched you when you moved. - -***** - -For years afterward he looked back to that Symphony with Rosalind. He -had come blindly to a door--as blindly as, when a boy, he had walked in -the moonlight--and they had gone in together. They were like children in -its strangeness. And as children explore a new field, they went -forward. It belonged to them--the lights and people, and vibrations -everywhere.... They would go till they came to the end--but there would -be no end--always hills stretching beyond, and a wood--something deep, -mysterious in that wood.... They came to it softly, looking in, and -turned back.... Once Rosalind had turned and looked at him. - -He held that fast--through the weeks and months that went by, through -the dull brick streets, he held it fast--for a moment the hidden -Rosalind had come to her window and looked out at him and smiled--before -she turned away. - - - - -XI - - -THE next day Gordon Barstow had come to see him. The divorce had -dragged on. It had not been contested, but there had been delays and -consultations and Eldridge had come to know Gordon Barstow well. - -He had a kind of keen, vicarious pity for Barstow. Sometimes, as he -talked with him and the simple lovableness of the man’s nature came up -through the uncouthness, he wondered whether Gordon Barstow might not -have regained his wife--if he had been determined. But he had let her -go; and after the first day he had seemed to take a kind of pleasure in -the proceedings. - -“I’ve been foolish about her,” he said, sitting in Eldridge’s office. -“But I don’t want her to suffer because I’ve been foolish--and I want to -make her an allowance--a good one. I don’t want Cordelia should ever -be poor.” Eldridge looked at him. “Won’t Tower take care of that?” he -suggested. - -The old man seemed to hold it--“He’ll mean to. He’s honest toward her. -I shouldn’t let him marry her if he wasn’t straight. But I want Cordelia -provided for.” - -And Eldridge suddenly saw that he was thinking of her as a man thinks of -his daughter--protectingly. The soreness seemed to have gone out of his -hurt. And there was something big in his attitude toward the two who had -wronged him. “Cordelia’s only a child,” he said. “I don’t believe -I’d ’a’ minded so much--if they’d trusted me. It’s that that hurts, -I guess--thinking of the times they must ’a’ lied--and I not knowing -enough to see anything was wrong.” - -Yes--it was that that hurt--the times Rosalind had slipped away from -him, before he knew--when he hadn’t eyes enough to see. He did not mind -that she went to Merwin’s. Sometimes he was impatient that she did not -go oftener. He would watch eagerly for the look in her face that told -him that to-day was a Merwin day.... He did not mind her going, now that -he knew. It was the not knowing that hurt. - -Sometimes, lately, he had begun to wonder whether Rosalind knew that he -was there, whether she guessed who it was that came through the swinging -doors and sat across the aisle, always a little behind her, and went -away before she left her place.... He liked to fancy that she knew--and -did not mind. - -Men and women were not so small as he had made them in his thought. -There was room in them generally for life to turn round. - -It was this that Gordon Barstow had taught him, he thought. He watched -the old man’s simple preparations to make Cordelia “well off” with quiet -understanding. It was not reparation with him; it was only a steady, -clear intention in the old man’s thought that the woman he had loved and -who had gone from him should not suffer.... “I might have kept her--if -I’d understood quick enough, I guess. I’m slow--about women,” he said. - -Then one day he came into the office. Eldridge had sent him word that -there were last papers to sign--and the business would be done. He came -in slowly, a little pinched with the cold. The wart in the grey-black -beard had a bluish look. Eldridge had learned not to look at the -half-hidden lump of flesh. He had fancied one day, as his eye rested on -it, that the man shrank a little. He had been surprised and he had never -looked at it again. It was the curious bluish look to-day that caught -his eye an instant. - -The old man signed the papers and pushed them back. “Well, I’m -glad--it’s done.” He sat looking at them a minute. “It’s taught me -more than I ever knew before,” he said. He lifted his eyes a minute to -Eldridge. “I’ve learned things--thinking about it--and about her--” - -He sat without speaking a little time. He had come to trust Eldridge, -and he seemed to like to sit quiet like this, at times, without -speaking. “I saw a woman to-day,” he said, “that made me -understand--more than Cordelia has--a woman in at Merwins.”--Eldridge -leaned forward--“She was sitting there alone,” said the old man, “and I -see her face--one of these quiet faces--not old and not young. I -could ’a’ loved her if I’d known her when I was younger--I see how -she was--she sat so quiet there. Well”--he got up and reached for his -hat--“you’ve seen me through. Thank you--for what you’ve done.” And -then he went out and Eldridge looked at his watch--Too late. She would -be gone. It was the first time he had missed her--since he knew. He had -not thought that Barstow’s business would take so long. He gathered up -the papers, filing certain ones and addressing others to be mailed.... -He should miss the old man. He had a feeling underneath his thought, as -he sorted the papers and filed them, that he was glad Barstow had sat -so long even though he had missed Rosalind.... He had seemed to want to -stay. - -Eldridge filed the last of the papers and looked again at his watch. It -was late, but not too late, he decided, to begin the piece of work that -had been put off for nearly a week. He became absorbed in it, and it was -seven o’clock before he left the office. - -The newsboys were shouting extras--as he came out--and he put one in his -pocket. He did not open it. Some one took a seat by him in the car and -they talked till the car reached home. Then the children claimed him; -and after supper he talked a little while with Rosalind. - -There was a maid now in the kitchen and Rosalind’s hands, he was -thinking, as they lay in her lap, were not red and roughened; they had a -delicate look. She sat sometimes without any sewing in them or any fussy -work--talking with him or sitting quiet. The first time she had sat -so, without speaking, he had felt as if the silence were calling -out--shouting his happiness--telling the world that Rosalind trusted -him. - -He opened the paper and glanced at it--and dropped it--as if he were -seeing something. - -She looked up. “What is it?” she asked. - -He took it up again slowly. “It’s a man--I know--Gordon Barstow. They -found him dead--in his car this afternoon. It’s some one you never -knew.” - - - - -XII - - -WEEKS passed and she had not gone to Merwin’s. For a while Eldridge -watched her face and waited for the Merwin look to come.... Then he -forgot it--for weeks he did not think of it. There had been another -concert; they had gone to a play and then to another; and as the spring -came on he took her for long drives into the country; sometimes they -went with the children, but more often alone. They drove far out in the -country and came back at early dusk, the brick houses softly outlined -about them. - -She could not fail to see that he was devoted to her. Sometimes he -brought a flower and left it on her table; he never gave it to her -directly, and there was no response to it. Beyond the one quiet look at -the concert, she had given no sign--only that now she would sit with him -silent, a long time, as if she did not repel him. - -He was working hard and the business had grown. A new class of clients -was coming to him--men with big interests--and the work often kept him -late at the office. Sometimes he would take supper in town and work far -into the evening. - -It was late in June that he came home one night and found her sitting -alone in the porch--a shadowy figure--as he came up the brick walk. - -The day had been warm, but the air had grown cool now and the moon -glimmered over the houses and roofs and on the few trees and shrubs in -the yard. - -They sat a long time in the porch, talking of the children and of the -work he had stayed for and a little about going away for the summer; -they had never been away in the summer, but they were going next week. -He had tried to send her earlier, when the children were through -school, but she had waited, and he had arranged for them all to get away -together. - -The moon rose high over the roofs and picked out the little lines of -vines on the porch and touched her face and hair. She was wearing a -light dress, something filmy, that was half in shadow, and his eyes -traced the lines of it. She was always mysterious, but often now as he -looked at her he felt that her guard was down. There were only a -few steps more to cross--he began to wonder if he should ever take -them--to-night perhaps? Or was he not, after all, the man to win her? - -She did not hold him back. It was something in him that waited. He -watched, through the moonlight, the vine shadows on her face--and -he remembered the night when she lay asleep--and he had watched her -face--the stranger’s face--close to him... and a boy and girl stood in -the moonlight and looked at him mistily--and drew back--and his wife -swayed a little, rocking in her chair, and her shadow moved on the -floor.... - -If he should speak--to her--now--what would she do? Would the gentle -rocking cease?... - -Then, slowly, a face grew before him. He watched it shape and fade--with -its grimness and kindness and a look of pain that lay behind it--old -Barstow’s face!... He knew now--he had come out of the moonlight.... -To-morrow he would speak to Rosalind--face to face, in the clear light -of every day.... The wonder of life was hidden in the sun--not in half -lights--or moonlight.... He was not afraid now. They would go for a long -drive--and he would tell her in the sun. - -But when he looked at her in the morning he knew that he was not to take -her with him out into the country. It was the Merwin look--a little look -of quiet intentness as if she dreamed and would not wake.... - -He looked at it and turned away. He had not seen the look for weeks, but -he knew that he should find her there when he pushed open the swinging -doors and went in. - -The curtains were drawn a little back and he knew, before he sat down, -that she was there--waiting for some one.... He had never seen her like -this--he had not been sure. He had put the thought from him when it -came. But now he knew--she was there waiting for some one, full of -happiness.... He knew her so well! She could not have a happiness he did -not share--and no one should hurt her! His hands half clinched. - -He had not thought she would come--again.... Why had she come? And this -was _his_ day--under the sky!... He had not thought this day she would -come to Merwin’s! - -Then he waited with her. Whatever Rosalind chose--she should not -separate herself from him--or from love.... He would wait with her and -be glad with her.... The strange face--the moonlight face--did not shut -him out now.... - -The swinging doors opened and closed and the man and the woman waited. - -The curtains to her alcove were closed; she had reached a hand to them -and drawn them together.... But she could not shut herself away; he -could see her as clearly as if he were there with her--the bent head and -gentle face. The curtains should not shut him out. - -He could not have told when it was that it came to him--He lifted -his head a minute and looked at it.... She was there waiting for some -one--she had been waiting, a long time, in her alcove--and he had not -stirred! - -He got up slowly and looked across to the green curtain--He moved toward -it--and put out his hand and--drew back the curtain.... She was looking -up, smiling--“You were--a long time!” she said. - -Her hand motioned to the seat across the table--but he did not take it. -He stood looking down at her--He laid his hat on the table and bent and -kissed her. - -Her lip trembled a little but she did not speak. - -He sat down in the chair opposite and looked at her-----“Well--?” he -said. - -She shook the tears from her eyes and smiled through them. “It was a -long while!” she said. - - - - -XIII - - -THE man and the woman in the alcove on the right had been talking a -long while. Three times the waiter had looked in and withdrawn. If he -had stopped long enough he would have seen that it seemed to be the -woman who was talking. The man sat silent, one hand shading his eyes and -the eyes looking out at her as she talked. - -The waiter knew the woman. He had served her--many times. He remembered -very well the first day she came to Merwin’s--a year ago--more than a -year, perhaps. She was alone, and she had stood just inside the -swinging door--looking about her as if she were not used to places like -Merwin’s--or as if she were afraid. Something had made him think that -she was looking for some one--and he had shown her into the third alcove -on the right. But no one had come that day. She had come again many -times since, and always alone, and there was always a coin on the table -in the third alcove waiting for him. - -The waiter was a little disappointed to-day.... He knew the -man--Eldridge Walcott--a lawyer--a good enough sort; but the waiter -somehow felt that they had not met until today. He had served them both -alone--but not together--until to-day.... He pushed aside the curtain -and looked in. - -She was still talking.... The man made a little gesture of refusal, and -he withdrew.... - -“It was when Tom sent me the five hundred--” the waiter heard her say as -the curtain fell in place. - -The man in the alcove behind the curtain was looking at her--“When did -Tom send you--five hundred?” - -“A year ago--a little more than a year, I think--” She paused to think -it out. “He had not sent us anything, you know--not since little Tom was -born--?” She was looking at him, straight---- - -His own look did not flinch. “I know--I put it into the business--called -it investing it--for Tommie--at six per cent.” - -She nodded. “Tom never liked it. I suppose mother told him--that we had -not used it to buy things with--the way he meant us to.” - -“For things you needed,” said the man. “I know--I knew then--but I took -it.” He did not excuse himself--and his eyes did not look away from her. -“I was blind,” he said softly. - -“That was what Tom wrote--when he sent the five hundred. He said that I -must spend it on myself--or return it to him.... And that I was to -tell him just what I bought with it--every penny of it--” She waited a -minute. - -“Did he say anything else?” asked the man. “Better tell me everything, -wouldn’t you--Rosalind?” - -“He said that he was not setting Eldridge Walcott up in business,” she -added after a little minute--and she smiled at him tenderly. - -Eldridge returned the look--“We don’t mind--now.” - -“No.”... They were silent a few minutes. “I thought--at first--I -_would_ send it back. I wrote to Tom how many things we needed--for the -house--and the children--and for everything--” - -“What did he say?” - -“He asked me if you would _let_ me spend it for the house and for the -children and for everything--if you knew about it?” - -The man’s eyes were looking at Mr. Eldridge Walcott, regarding him -impartially. “I am glad that you did not let me know.” - -“Yes. I sent it back--once. But Tom wrote again--all about when we were -children and when he gave me the biggest bites of candy and filled my -pail up to the top when we went berrying-----He said it was what had -made a man of him--keeping my pail full.” - -Eldridge winced a little. But she did not stop. “He said he wanted me to -spend the money for the little girl _he_ knew. - -“I didn’t spend it--not for a long time, you know. But I kept it and -I looked at it--sometimes--and wondered.... Then one day I saw a -dress--that I liked. I thought it was like me, a little--?” She looked -at him------ - -He nodded. - -“So I got it--and that was the end, I guess.” She laughed tremulously. -“Everything kept coming after that. The dress seemed to make me need-- -_everything!_” She spread out her hands. - -Then she sat thinking--and looking at the dress that needed everything. -“I wore it at first just at home--when I was alone. I would put it on -and sit down and fold my hands--and think of things... about Tom and -about being a little girl--and about mother. I was always rested when -I took it off... and when the children came in from school and you came -home, I could bear things better.”.... - -He reached out a hand and touched hers where it lay on the table.... He -had said that he should touch it--some time. He stroked it a minute and -she went on. - -“Then I came here--” She made a little gesture. “I didn’t know what it -was like--I didn’t even know there was a place like this.” She -glanced around the alcove that sheltered them--with its folds of green -curtain--“But as soon as I came, I knew I should come again. I knew it -would take care of me--the way Tom wanted for me. So I spent the money.” - She lifted the little linked purse from the table--she laughed. “Only -fifty cents left--You ’re here just in time!” - -Eldridge held out his hand. “Give it to me.” - -She looked at him. - -“I want it--yes. Aren’t you willing to give me fifty cents--of your five -hundred?” - -She handed it to him with a little sigh of relief. - -He took it and balanced it thoughtfully in his hand--“Why did you come -to-day?” he asked. - -“This is my anniversary day.” - -“To-day?” - -She nodded--as if she saw a vision. “It is a year to-day that I came -here--the first time.” - -“Alone--?” The word breathed itself--and stopped, and Eldridge put out a -hand. “Don’t tell me! I did not ask it.” - -“Don’t you know?” She was looking at him. - -“Yes, I know. I do not understand--but I know.” - -She smiled and sat silent.... “I was frightened to come!” It seemed as -if she were looking at the strangeness of it. “I was afraid--the first -day--” - -“You should have asked me to come,” he urged. - -“Would you have come?” - -“No--not then.” - -“And I had to come! I could not wait--and there was--no one.... You -would not have come--not even if I had waited.” - -“No--I should not have come--except to find you.... Tell me, have you -never been afraid of me--of what I would do?” - -“The first day--yes--I was terribly frightened when you came in and sat -over there,” she moved her hand. “I wanted to scream out--to go to you -and tell you what it meant, and beg you not to be angry.... I had never -done anything without you before. I was like a child! Then you went out -and I hurried home. I tore off the things. I did not mind your -knowing. I only wanted you to understand. I was afraid you might -not--understand.” - -“I didn’t--” - -“No--I know. But after a while--I knew you were trying to.... Then I -knew that some day we should be here--together.” - -The little alcove seemed to expand and become a wide place--Eldridge -caught a glimpse of something fine and sincere--it passed like a breath -over her face and was gone. - -She lifted the face--“I have waited for it,” she said. “I have prayed -for it every day, I think.” Her lips barely moved the words--“I did not -want to feel alone here.” - -He pushed back the curtain and beckoned to the waiter. “We will drink to -the day,” he said. - -Eldridge gave his order and looked on, smiling, while the waiter placed -the slender-necked flask on the table and brought out the glasses and -withdrew. - -They lifted the glasses. “To the day--you left me,” he said. “And to the -day I followed you,” he added slowly. - -The glass paused in her hand. “That was the Symphony--?” - -“Yes--And to your anniversary!” - -She set down the glass. “I have not told you everything. It was not--my -anniversary--made me come--to-day.” - -“No?” - -She shook her head. “I came--to meet--you!” she said. - -He looked at her slowly--“And when did you know that I would come?” he -asked. - -“Last night--in the moonlight. I was so afraid you would speak there--in -the moon! I did not want the moon to get in,” she said. “I wanted you to -speak in real, plain daylight--and then, of course, you know, it’s Tom’s -gown and not the moon. Everybody has the moon!” she laughed. - -“This is a very little place, this alcove,” said Eldridge. He was -looking about him at the green walls of the alcove--thinking of the sun -and the fields and of the road up through the hills---- - -“But it’s where I went berrying with Tom,” she laughed. - -He smiled at her. “Then it is as big as the world--and the sun and all -the fields of the sun!” he said. - -Outside the curtain the music tinkled dimly, and there was a lower -music still of all the glasses and words--and there was a silence in the -alcove. - -“So there has never been any one--any one but me--” he said, “in your -alcove!” He was looking at her hap-pily. - -“No.” Her lip waited on it--and closed. “There _was_ some one--” she -spoke slowly. “It seems a queer thing to tell. It had no beginning -and no end!” She waited, still looking at it.... “It was a man--an old -man--that used to sit over there to the left, at a table by himself. I -could see him through the curtains. Even when they were almost closed -I could see him. He always sat there, and always alone.... I did not -notice him at first.... I do not think any one would have noticed -him--at first. He was almost ugly--or he seemed ugly.” She was smiling -at her thought.... “And one day suddenly I saw him as he really was, as -he was inside--very gentle and strong and wise--and not wanting to hurt -any one or to let any one suffer--more than they had to. I knew, some -way, if I should go up to him and speak to him, that he would understand -me--and help me. I should have liked to--speak to him. Of course it -is really the same as if I did.”... She seemed thinking of it. “But I -didn’t. I never saw him more than a dozen times, I suppose. But I -used to think about him, and it helped me. I should have trusted him -anywhere--and been willing to go with him--anywhere in the world. I -don’t believe he was very clever--but it rested me to think of him--just -as a big, homely field rests you--and the way the music did that first -night--when we knew each other-----” - -After a minute she went on. “I have not seen him for a long time. He -stopped coming suddenly....” - - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Woman in the Alcove, by Jennette Lee - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOMAN IN THE ALCOVE *** - -***** This file should be named 51989-0.txt or 51989-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/8/51989/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - diff --git a/old/51989-0.zip b/old/51989-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 70363e7..0000000 --- a/old/51989-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51989-h.zip b/old/51989-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 84772b7..0000000 --- a/old/51989-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51989-h/51989-h.htm b/old/51989-h/51989-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 1af6858..0000000 --- a/old/51989-h/51989-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3183 +0,0 @@ -<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> - -<!DOCTYPE html - PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > - -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> - <title> - The Woman in the Alcove, by Jennette Lee - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> - - body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} - P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } - H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } - hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} - .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} - blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} - .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} - .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} - .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} - .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} - .x-small {font-size: 75%;} - .small {font-size: 85%;} - .large {font-size: 115%;} - .x-large {font-size: 130%;} - .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} - .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} - .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} - .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} - .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} - .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} - div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } - div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } - .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} - .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} - .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; - font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; - text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; - border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} - .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} - span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } - pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} - -</style> - </head> - <body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Woman in the Alcove, by Jennette Lee - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Woman in the Alcove - -Author: Jennette Lee - -Illustrator: A. I. Keller And Arthur E. Becher - -Release Date: May 3, 2016 [EBook #51989] -Last Updated: February 21, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOMAN IN THE ALCOVE *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - -</pre> - - <div style="height: 8em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - THE WOMAN IN THE ALCOVE - </h1> - <h2> - By Jennette Lee - </h2> - <h3> - Illustrated by A. I. Keller and Arthur E. Becher - </h3> - <h4> - Charles Scribner’s Sons, New York - </h4> - <h3> - 1914 - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0008.jpg" alt="0008 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0008.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0009.jpg" alt="0009 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0009.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <h3> - TO - </h3> - <h3> - GERALD STANLEY LEE - </h3> - <h3> - I - </h3> - <p class="indent15"> - “Room after room, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - I hunt the house through - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - We inhabit together. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Heart, fear nothing, for, heart, thou shalt find her— - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Next time, herself!—not the trouble behind her - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Left in the curtain, the couch’s perfume! - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - As she brushed it, the cornice-wreath blossomed anew; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Yon looking-glass gleamed at the wave of her feather. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <h3> - II - </h3> - <p class="indent15"> - “Yet the day wears - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And door succeeds door; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - I try the fresh fortune— - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Range the wide house from the wing to the centre. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Still the same chance! She goes out as I enter. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Spend my whole day in the quest,—who cares? - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - But ’tis twilight, you see—with such suites to explore, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Such closets to search, such alcoves to importune.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - <b>CONTENTS</b> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> I </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> II </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> III </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> IV </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> V </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> VI </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> VII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VIII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> IX </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> X </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> XI </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> XII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XIII </a> - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - I - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">E</span>LDRIDGE WALCOTT - paused in front of the great building; he looked up and hesitated and went - in. He crossed the marble lobby and passed through the silent, swinging - doors on the opposite side and stepped into a softly lighted café. He had - never been in Merwin’s before, though he had often heard of it, and he was - curious as to what it would be like. There was a sound of music somewhere - and low voices and the tinkle of silver and glass behind the little green - curtains. He entered an alcove at the left and sat down. The restfulness - of the place soothed him, and he sat listening to the distant music and - looking out between the parted curtains of the alcove to the room with its - little tables filling the space beyond the green-curtained alcoves on - either side and the people seated at the tables. They were laughing and - eating and talking and drinking from delicate cups or turning - slender-stemmed glasses in their fingers as they talked. Beyond the tables - rose a small platform; a woman had just mounted it and was bowing to the - scattered tables. The sound of voices ceased an instant and hands clapped - faintly here and there. The woman on the platform bowed again and looked - at the accompanist, who struck the opening bars. It was a light, trivial - song with more personality than art in the singing of it, and the audience - applauded perfunctorily, hardly breaking off its talk to acknowledge that - it was done. The woman stepped down from the platform and joined a group - at a table near by, and waiters moved among the tables, refilling cups and - glasses and taking orders. - </p> - <p> - A waiter paused by the alcove where Eldridge Walcott was sitting and - pushed back the little curtain and looked in and waited. Eldridge took up - the card on the table before him; he fingered it a little awkwardly and - laid it down: “Bring me cigars,” he said. - </p> - <p> - The waiter scribbled on a card and passed on. When he had completed the - alcoves on the left he turned and went back along the right, pausing - before each one and bending forward to listen and take the order on his - card. As he approached the third alcove he pushed back the curtain that - half concealed it at the back and bent forward. When he passed on the - curtain did not fall into place; it remained caught on the back of the - seat. From where Eldridge sat he could see the woman seated in the alcove. - She was alone, her back to him, her head a little bent as if in thought. - </p> - <p> - He glanced at her carelessly and along the row of green curtains to the - tables beyond. It was all much as he had imagined it—a place where - one could spend time and money without too much exertion. It was the money - part of it that interested Eldridge. His client had asked him to look into - it for him as an investment, and he had decided on this informal way of - appraising it. To-morrow he was to go over the books and accounts. The - owners wanted a stiff price for the goodwill. It was probably worth what - they were asking he decided as he watched the careless, happy crowd. - People who came here were not thinking how much they could save.... It was - not the sort of place he should care to come to often himself. Life to - Eldridge was a serious, drab affair compared with Merwin’s. He liked to - think how much he could save; and when he had saved it he liked to invest - it where it would breed more.... He might take a few shares of the capital - stock himself—his client had suggested it. - </p> - <p> - The waiter brought the cigars and Eldridge lighted one and leaned back, - smoking and enjoying the relaxed air of the place. He could understand - dimly how people liked this sort of thing and would come day after day for - music and talk and the purposelessness of it all; it was a kind of huge, - informal club with a self-elected membership. - </p> - <p> - As a prospective investor the charm of it pleased him. They ought to be - able to make a good thing of it. He fell to making little calculations; it - was part of his power as a successful man of business that he understood - detail and the value of small things. - </p> - <p> - He was not a financier, but he handled small interests well and he had - built up a comfortable fortune. From being in debt before he married, he - had advanced slowly until now his investments made a good showing. He - could probably live on the income to-morrow if he chose.... He blew a - little ring of smoke.... His investments and what they were mounting to - was a kind of epic poem to Eldridge’s slow-moving mind.... Yes—he - would take a few shares of the café stock. He looked thoughtfully at his - cigar and calculated how many, and what they would be worth.... The music - had taken the form of a young boy with a violin who stood absorbed in his - playing, a kind of quick fervor in his face and figure. The voices had - ceased and only now and then a cup clicked. - </p> - <p> - Eldridge lifted his eyes from the cigar. The woman in the alcove had moved - nearer the end of the seat and was watching the boy, her lips parted on a - half smile. - </p> - <p> - The cigar dropped from Eldridge’s fingers. He stared at the woman—stared—and - stirred vaguely. - </p> - <p> - She turned a little and Eldridge reached out his hand and drew a quick - curtain between them. - </p> - <p> - Through the slit he could still see the figure of the woman, her head - thrown a little back, her eyes following the bow of music as it rose and - fell, and the lips smiling in happy content—He drew a quick breath. - </p> - <p> - Slowly a deep flush came into his face—How dared Rosalind come here! - It was a respectable place—of course—but how dared she spend - her time and money—his money and time that belonged to her home and - her children—in a place like this?... Her hands were folded in her - lap, and her eyes followed the music. - </p> - <p> - She had barely touched the glass on the table before her, he noted, or the - plate of little biscuit. She seemed to sit in a dream.... His mind - whirled. Six hours before he had said good-by to her at the breakfast - table—a plain, drab woman in shabby clothes, with steel-rimmed - spectacles that looked at him with a little line between the eyes and - reminded him that he needed to order coal for the range and a new - clothes-line.... He had ordered the coal, but he recalled suddenly that he - had forgotten the clothes-line; he had intended to see if he could get one - cheaper at a wholesale place he knew of; his memory held the clothes-line - fast in the left lobe of his brain while the grey matter of the right lobe - whirled excitedly about the woman in the alcove. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0025.jpg" alt="0025 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0025.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - She had raised a lorgnette to her eyes and was looking at the boy - violinist, a little, happy, wistful smile on her lips.... Eldridge had not - seen her smile like that for years. His left lobe abandoned the - clothes-line and recalled to him when it was he saw the little smile, half - wistful, half happy, on her face.... They were standing by the gate, and - he was saying good night; the moon had just come up, and there was a - fragrant bush beside the path that gave out the smell of spring; the left - lobe yielded up fragrance and moonlight and the little wistful smile while - his quick eye followed the lorgnette; it had dropped to her lap, and her - hands were folded on it.... Rosalind—! A gold lorgnette—and - draperies, soft, gauzy lines and folds of silk—and a hat on her - shining, lifted hair, like a vague coronet! Eldridge Walcott held his - cigar grimly between his teeth; the cigar had gone out—both lobes - had ceased to whirl.... A kind of frozen light held his face. His hand - groped for his hat. Why should he not step across the aisle and sit down - in the chair opposite her and confront her?—the green curtains would - shut them in.... Both lobes stared at the thought and held it tight—to - face Rosalind, a grey, frightened woman in her finery, behind the little - green curtains! He shook himself loose and stood up. Softly his hand drew - back the curtain, and he stepped out. They were clapping the boy - violinist, who had played to the end, and Eldridge moved toward the - swinging doors and passed out and stood in the lobby. He wiped his - forehead.... A sound of moving chairs came from behind the doors, and he - crossed the lobby quickly and plunged into the crowd. It was five o’clock, - and the streets were filled with people hurrying home. Eldridge turned - against the tide and crossed a side street and pressed east, his feet - seeming to find a way of their own. He was not thinking where he would go—except - that it must be away from her. He could not face her yet—Who <i>was</i> - she? There was the drab woman of the morning, waiting for him to come home - with the clothesline, and there was the woman of the alcove, splendid, - gentle, with the little smile and the gold lorgnette.... Rosalind—Fifteen - years he had lived with her, and he had known her ten years before that—there - was nothing <i>queer</i> about Rosalind! He lifted his head a little - proudly—The woman he had just left was very beautiful! It struck him - for the first time that she was beautiful, and he half stopped. - </p> - <p> - He walked more slowly, taking it in—Rosalind was not beautiful; she - had not been beautiful—even as a girl—only pretty, with a kind - of freshness and freedom about her and something in her eyes that he had - not understood—It was the look that had drawn him—He was - always wondering about it. Sometimes he saw it in the night—as if it - flitted when he woke. He had not thought of it for years. Something in the - woman’s shoulder and the line of her head was like it. But the woman was - very <i>beautiful!</i>—Suppose it were not Rosalind after all! He - gave a quick breath, and his feet halted and went on. Then a thought - surged at him, and he walked fast—he almost ran. No—No—! - It was as if he put his hands over his ears to shut it out. Other women—but - not <i>his</i> wife! She had children—<i>three</i> children! He - tried to think of the children to steady himself. He pictured her putting - them to bed at night, bending above Tommie and winding a flannel bandage - tight around his throat for croup; he could see her quite plainly, the - quick, efficient fingers and firm, roughened hands drawing the bed-clothes - in place and tucking them in.... The woman’s hands had rested so quietly - in her lap! Were they rough?—She had worn gloves—he remembered - now—soft gloves, like the color in her gown.... He stared at the - gloves—they were long—they came to the elbow—yes, there - was a kind of soft, lacy stuff that fell away from them—yes, they - were long gloves.... They must have cost—— - </p> - <p> - He tried to think what the gloves must have cost, but he had nothing to go - by. Rosalind had never worn such gloves, nor his mother or sisters. Only - women who were very rich wore gloves like that—or women—— - </p> - <p> - He faced the thought at last. He had come out where the salt air struck - him; the town and its lights had fallen behind; there was the marsh to - cross, and he was on a long beach, the wind in his face, the water rolling - up in spray and sweeping slowly back—He strode forward, his head to - the wind.... There was no one that she knew—no man.... How should - she know any one that he did not know! - </p> - <p> - She was never away.... But was he—sure! How did he know what went on—all - day... half past seven till seven at night? In the evenings she mended the - children’s clothes and he looked over the paper. Sometimes they talked - about things and planned how they could get along. Rosalind was a good - manager. He saw her sitting beside the lamp, in her cheap dress, her head - bent over the figures, working it out with him—and he saw the woman - in the alcove—the clothes she wore—he drew back before it—more - than the whole family spent in a year!... The gloves alone might have - bought her Sunday suit—Sunday was, after all, the only day he knew - where she was—in church with him and, in the afternoon, lying down - in her room while he took the children for a walk.... He was a good father—he - set his teeth to it defiantly, against the wind. She could not accuse <i>him</i> - of neglect.... Suddenly a hurt feeling stirred somewhere deep down—He - did not look at it; he did not know it was there. But the first shock had - passed. He was not bewildered any more. He could think steadily, putting - point to point, building up the “case”.... Then, suddenly, he would see - her in the great spectacles, reminding him of the clothes-line—and - his “case” collapsed like a foolish little card house.... Not Rosalind—other - women, perhaps—but not Rosalind.... He turned slowly back, the wind - behind him urging him on. He would go home—to her. Perhaps when he - saw her he should know what to think.... But perhaps she had not yet come - home. If he hurried he might get there before her and face her as she came - in. He hurried fast, he almost ran, and when he reached the streets he - signalled a cab; he had not used a cab for years; it would cost a dollar, - at least—He looked out at the half-deserted street—the crowd - had thinned. He held his watch where the light of the street arc flashed - across it—six-thirty. Half an hour before his usual time. He paid - the fare and went quickly up the steps.... The children were talking in - the dining-room. There was no other sound. He opened the door and looked - in. She was standing by the table looking at Tommie’s coat—There was - a rent in the shoulder and the face bent above it had a look of quiet - patience—The grey-drab hair was parted exactly in the middle and - combed smoothly down; the eyes behind the spectacles looked up—with - the little line between them. When she saw who it was she glanced for a - moment at the clock and then back at him—“Did you bring the - clothesline?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - He stared at her a moment—at her plain, cheap dress and homely face. - Then he turned away. “I—forgot,” he said. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - II - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HEN supper was - done and the children in bed she moved about the room for a few minutes - putting things to rights. Eldridge, sitting by the table, held his - newspaper in his hand and now and then he rustled it and turned it over; - his eyes did not leave the little black printed marks, but his real eyes - were not following the marks; they were watching the woman; they tried to - dart upon her in her plainness and make her speak. There was something - monstrous to him—that they should be here together, in this room—he - could have touched her with his hand as she moved past him—yet they - were a thousand miles apart. He cleared his throat; he would force her, - accuse her, make her reveal what was going on behind the earnest-looking - glasses.... He turned the paper and began another page.... If he were - another man he might spring at her—take her by the throat—force - her back—back against the wall—and <i>make</i> her speak! She - had finished tidying the room and came over to the table, the torn coat in - her hand; she was looking down at the frayed threads in the rent, the - little line between her eyes; he did not look up or move; he could hear - her breathing—then she gave a little sigh and laid the coat on the - table.... She was leaving the room. His eyes leaped after her and came - back. - </p> - <p> - When she returned she spread the roll of pieces on the table and selected - one, slipping it in beneath the rent; he could see—without taking - his eyes from the page—he could see the anxious, faintly red - knuckles and her fingers fitting the piece in place with deft, roughened - tips. She had a kind of special skill at mending, making old things new. - When they were first married it had been one of their little jokes—how - lucky she was to have married a poor man. He had kissed her fingers one - day—he recalled it—when she had shown him the little skilful - darn in his coat; he had called it a kind of poem and he had kissed her. - It seemed almost shameless to him, behind his paper—the foolishness - was shameless—of kissing her for that.... - </p> - <p> - She was sewing swiftly now with the short, still movements that came and - went like breaths; her head was bent over the coat and he could see the - parting of her hair; he dropped his eye to it for a minute and rustled the - paper and turned it vaguely. “I was in at Merwin’s this afternoon,” he - said. - </p> - <p> - The needle paused a dart—and went on rhythmically, in and out. “Did - you like it?” she asked. She had not lifted her head from her work. - </p> - <p> - He turned a casual page and read on—“Oh, so-so.” It was the sort of - absent-minded talk they often had—a kind of thinking out loud - without interest in one another. - </p> - <p> - “It is a popular place, isn’t it?” - </p> - <p> - She was smoothing the edges of the patch thoughtfully; there was a little - smile on her lip. - </p> - <p> - He folded his paper. “I’m going to bed,” he announced. - </p> - <p> - She glanced quickly at the clock and resumed her work. “I must finish - this. He hasn’t any other to wear.” The needle went in and out. - </p> - <p> - Eldridge rose and stretched himself above her. He looked down at her—at - the swift-moving hands and grey closeness of her dress. He would like to - take her in his hands and crush out of her the thoughts—make her - speak out the thoughts that followed the swift-going needle; he did not - know that he wanted this—he was only feeling over and over, in some - deep, angry place—“What the devil was she doing there? What the——” - </p> - <p> - He moved about the room a minute and ’went out. The woman by the table - sewed on. A bolt shot in the front hall and Eldridge’s feet mounted the - stairs slowly. Then the room was quiet—only the clock and the - needle. - </p> - <p> - Presently the needle stopped—the woman’s hands lay folded in her - lap. The figure was motionless, the head bent—only across her face - moved the little smile.... The clock travelled round and whirred its - warning note and struck, and she only stirred a little, as if a breath - escaped her, and took up her work, looking at it blindly. - </p> - <p> - A sound came in the hall and she looked up. - </p> - <p> - He stood in the doorway, his old dressing-gown wrapped around him, his - hands gaunt, with the little hairs at the wrist uncovered by cuffs. - </p> - <p> - She looked at him, smiling absently. There was something almost beautiful - in her face as she lifted it to him—“When are you coming to bed?” he - asked harshly. - </p> - <p> - “Why, right now, Eldridge—I must have been dreaming.” She gathered - up the work from her lap. “I hope I haven’t kept you awake.” - </p> - <p> - He stood looking at her a minute. Then he wheeled about without response. - His feet beneath the bath gown moved awkwardly. But the spine in the bath - gown had a cold, dignified, offended look—a kind of grotesque - stateliness—as it disappeared through the doorway. - </p> - <p> - The woman looked after it, the little, gathering smile still on her face. - Then she turned toward the lamp and put it out, and the radiant smile - close to the lamp became a part of the dark. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - III - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>Y morning it had - become a dream. - </p> - <p> - Eldridge was late and he hurried from the house and hurried all the - morning to catch up. By luncheon time he was in another world. He took - plenty of time for his luncheon; it was one of the things he had learned—to - eat his luncheon slowly and take time to digest it. Sometimes he read the - paper, sometimes he dropped into a moving-picture show for a few minutes - afterward. But to-day he did neither. He sat in the restaurant—it - was a crowded restaurant, all America coming and going—and he - watched it idly. He had a rested, comfortable feeling, as if he had - escaped some calamity. It seemed foolish now, as he looked back—a - kind of fever in the blood that had twisted the commonest things into - queer shape. He looked back over it dispassionately—it was the woman - in Merwin’s who had started it, of course; there <i>was</i> something - about her—something like Rosalind—curiously like her—it - was like what Rosalind <i>might</i> have been, more than what she was—a - kind of spirited-up Rosalind! He smiled grimly. - </p> - <p> - He called for his check; and while he waited he saw her again, the figure - of the woman—not in the restaurant—but in a kind of vision—in - the alcove behind the curtain, her head a little bent, her hands folded - quietly in her lap... who <i>was</i> she—? His heart gave a sudden - twist and stopped—He had never felt like this about—any one—had - he? He looked down at a red check, with its stamped black figures, and - fumbled in his pocket—and brought out a coin and laid it beside the - check and stared at it.... The check and the coin slipped away and he - stared at the marble top. Suppose he saw her—again... some time.... - Two coins reappeared on the table and he picked them up. Then he put back - one and felt for his hat and went out.... The traffic shrieked at him and - people jostled him with their elbows and hurried him, and he jostled back - and woke up and shook off the queerness and went about his work.... He was - forty-one years old and his property was all well invested. It had never - occurred to him that he could be different from himself.... He read in the - paper of people who did things—did things different from themselves, - suddenly—people who squandered fortunes in a day, or murdered and - ran away from business—and their wives—people who committed - suicide. Vicariously, he knew all about how queer men could be... and his - chief experience with it all, with this world that his newspaper rolled - before him every day, was a kind of wonder that people would do such - things and a knowledge, deeper than faith or conviction, that Eldridge - Walcott would never do any of them. He explained such men—if he - explained them at all—by saying that they must have a screw loose - somewhere. Perhaps he thought of men, vaguely, as put together with works - inside, carefully adjusted and screwed in place, warranted, with good - usage, to run so long; certainly it had not occurred to him that a man - could change much after he was forty years old. - </p> - <p> - He went back to business refreshed, more refreshed than his luncheon often - left him. He thought of Rosalind, now and then, with a kind of - thankfulness—Rosalind waiting for him at night with the children, - life moving on in the same comfortable way. He had even a moment’s flash - of thankfulness to the unknown woman that she had made him see how - comfortable he was, how much he had to be thankful for in his quiet life. - It was a profitable afternoon—the best stroke of business in six - months; and he flattered himself that he handled it well. He felt - unusually alive, alert. On the way home he passed a florist’s and half - stopped, looking down at a beautiful plant that flamed on a bench outside - the door; he did not know what it was; they were all “plants” to him, - except roses—he knew a rose—this was not a rose; he looked at - it a moment and hurried on.... She would think it strange if he brought - her anything like a plant. - </p> - <p> - The idea grew with him the next day and the next. Why should he not give - her something? She deserved it. There seemed always some good reason why - her clothes were the last to be bought and the plainest and shabbiest—and - a woman’s clothes could always be made over.... Suppose she had a new suit—something - that was really good—Suppose he got it for her—would she be in - the least like that—other—one—? He had long ago - abandoned the idea that there was a real resemblance between them. He knew - now that he must have been overwrought, excited in some mysterious way—the - woman herself seemed to have excited him. - </p> - <p> - The wrong that he had done Rosalind—even in his thought—made - him tender of her. He did not buy a crimson flower to take home to her. - But a week later he called one day at his bank and in the evening he - handed her a little, twisted roll of something. - </p> - <p> - She had finished her work and was sitting for a minute before she brought - her sewing basket. He laid the roll in the curve of her fingers in her - lap. - </p> - <p> - When she glanced down at it she took it up in short-sighted surprise and - looked at the new, crisp bills—and then at him— - </p> - <p> - He nodded. “For you,” he said. “It’s a new suit—you need it.” He - balanced a little on his toes, looking down at her. - </p> - <p> - Her face flushed red; it grew from neck to chin and flooded up to him. - “What do you mean?” she said under her breath. - </p> - <p> - “I want you to get a good one—good stuff, good dressmaker—It’s - enough, isn’t it?” - </p> - <p> - “It is more—than enough—” The red had flooded her face again—as - if she would cry. But she said nothing for a minute. She was looking down - at the bills. - </p> - <p> - Then she looked up. The plain face had a smile like light from somewhere - far away. “May I get just what I like—?” - </p> - <p> - He nodded proudly. She was almost beautiful... perhaps—in the new - gown—He pulled himself together.... She had looked down again and - was fingering the bills happily.... “There is a little muff and fur—” - she said. - </p> - <p> - He nodded, encouraging—“A muff and fur and a little fur cap that I - wanted—so much—for Mary—and overcoats for the boys—they’re - so shabby—and your hat is really not fit, you know—” She was - looking up now and smiling and checking them off—He stopped her with - a gesture. - </p> - <p> - “You are to spend it on yourself,” he said almost harshly. - </p> - <p> - “On myself—! Why do you say that?” She almost confronted him—as - if she caught her breath—“You never have things and you always get - out of spending things on yourself.” He half muttered the words. - </p> - <p> - “Oh—oh—! I shall get something for myself. You will see!” - </p> - <p> - He held out his hand. He was a good man of business. No one got far ahead - of him.—“When you have bought the dress I will pay for it,” he said. - “Give them to me. I cannot trust you with them.” - </p> - <p> - She looked at him—and at the bills—and they dropped from her - hand into his slowly and her arms fell; her shoulders rose and trembled - and the hands covered her face. She was weeping, deep, silent sobs— - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0057.jpg" alt="0057 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0057.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - He bent over her—ashamed. “You must not do that,” he said. “You - needn’t feel bad. I wanted you to have it—” - </p> - <p> - She took down her hands and looked at him. “It seemed so good to have—enough—more - than enough! to be extravagant!” She threw out her hands with a little - wasteful gesture. - </p> - <p> - He was looking at her closely. A suspicion leaped at him. Her face was so - free and the tears had made it mysterious and sweet—she was as - wonderful as that other—she was—She was—He stopped with - a quick jerk. “I want you to be extravagant on <i>yourself!</i>” he said. - He was watching her face. - </p> - <p> - It flamed again but it did not drop before him. Only the eyes sent back a - look—on guard, it seemed to him. “I do not need so much for myself,” - she said quietly, “part of it will be quite enough.” - </p> - <p> - He put the bills in his pocket. “All or nothing,” he said easily. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - All the next day he turned it in his mind—the look in her eyes, the - beauty—something deep within her, shining out.... He no longer went - peacefully about his work. <i>Could</i> it have been Rosalind, after - all?... He had never seen her look like that—he had not dreamed.... - But when he came home at night the look was not there; he fancied that she - was more worn and a little troubled. Certainly, no one could think of her - as beautiful... and why should a man want to think his wife beautiful?... - It was the woman in the alcove that had done the mischief. He should never - get over the woman in the alcove. She had got into his life whether or - not. He could not be comfortable about Rosalind. There was something about - her that he had not known or suspected before. He fell to watching her - when she was not aware. He had thought he knew her so well and now she was - a stranger.... But perhaps it was himself—the woman had done - something to him. Rosalind was the same—but was she? He looked at - her a long time one night as she lay asleep. The moonlight had come in and - was on her face. He watched it—as if a breath might speak to him—it - was not Rosalind’s face. Some stranger was there, out of a strange land; a - great yearning came to him to waken her, to ask her whence she came, what - it was that she knew—what made her face so peaceful in the moonlight—calling - to him? He got up softly and closed the blind. He remembered he had heard - that it was not good for people to sleep with the moon shining on them—it - was only superstition, of course. But superstition had suddenly changed - its bounds for him.... Were there things, perhaps, that people knew, that - they guessed—true things that they could not explain and did not - talk about?... - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - IV - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>E could not bring - himself to speak to Rosalind about the woman in the alcove. He wanted to - speak—to do away, once for all, with the strangeness and the spell - she seemed to have cast about him, to speak of her casually as that woman - I saw the other day at Merwin’s; but he could not do it. It was as if he - were afraid—or bashful. He had not felt like this since—not - since he was in love—with Rosalind! He looked at the thought and - turned it over slowly. He was not in love with the woman—certainly - he was not in love with her! He would not know her again if he met her on - the street.... Would he not! Suddenly he felt that he had known her always—longer - than he had known Rosalind—longer than he had been alive! He found - himself wondering about the world—how it was the world got into - existence—what were men doing in it—and women—and his - mind travelled out into space—great stars swung away mistily—what - did it mean—all his world and stars?... Perhaps if he saw her again, - just a few minutes, he would feel like himself again.... It was worth - trying—and how he wanted—to—see her! Well, what of that? - There was nothing wrong in being curious about a woman like that. If she - <i>had</i> some uncanny power over him he might as well find it out—fight - it! - </p> - <p> - He was respectable—he was a married man.... And what had Rosalind to - do with it? Perhaps it <i>was</i> Rosalind. He should never quiet down - till he knew. There was something in his blood. The next time he was - passing Merwin’s he would go in.... - </p> - <p> - He passed Merwin’s that afternoon—and went in. But she was not - there. He sat a little while in the quiet of the place, looking across to - the alcove where the woman had been. There was no one in it and the - curtains were drawn back. Each time a stir came from the swinging doors or - a dress rustled beside him he half turned and held his breath till it - passed and took its place at one of the little tables or in an alcove. But - the third alcove on the right remained empty. No quiet figure moved with - soft grace and seated itself there... no one but Eldridge saw the figure—the - gentle, bending line of the neck, the little droop of the face.... If only - she would lift it or turn to him a minute.... And then the still, clear - emptiness of the place swept between; the green curtains framed it, as if - it were a picture, a little antechamber leading somewhere.... - </p> - <p> - Eldridge shook himself and took his hat and went out. The doors swung - silently behind him—he would never go in there again! He was a fool—a - soft fool! Then he almost stopped in the crowd of the street.... And he - knew suddenly that he would go back. He would go—again and again—he - could not help himself. But he was <i>not</i> in love—he had been in - love—with Rosalind—and it was not like this.... A policeman - thrust out an arm and stopped him, and he waited for the traffic to stream - past.... He was not in love—only curious about the woman; it teased - him not to know who she was... and why he had been so sure that she was - Rosalind. If he could see her again—just a minute—long enough - to make sure, he would not care if he never saw her again. He was loyal, - of course, to Rosalind, more loyal than he had ever been. It seemed - curious how the woman had made him see Rosalind—all the plainness of - her filled with something strange and sweet—like moonlight or a - quiet place. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - V - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE next day he - went again to Merwin’s. No use for him to say he would keep away. He knew, - all through the drudging accounts in the morning, that he would go; and - while he talked with clients and arranged sales and managed a real-estate - deal—back in the corner of his mind, behind its green curtains, the - little alcove waited. - </p> - <p> - He passed through the swinging doors and glanced quickly, and the hand - holding his hat gripped it tight. The curtains of the third alcove to the - right were half closed, but along the floor lay a fold of grey dress and - over the end of the seat, thrown carelessly back, hung the edge of a - fur-lined wrap. - </p> - <p> - Eldridge turned blindly toward his place. Some one was there. He had to - take the alcove behind, and he could not see her from the alcove behind—not - even if she should push back the curtain that shut her away—But he - found himself, strangely, not caring to see her.... She was there, a - little way off; it was she—no need to part the curtains and look in - on her. He felt her presence through all the place. He was no longer - guilty.... He was hardly curious to know her. He took up the card from the - table before him and studied it blindly.... His heart seemed to lie out - before him—a clear, white place.... Men and women were not so evil - as he had dreamed. He was doing something that a week ago he would have - condemned any one for; yet his heart, as he looked into it, was singularly - clear and big—and the light shining in it puzzled him—like a - charm—It was a place that he had never seen; he had dreamed of it, - perhaps, as a child. He ordered something, at random, from the card and - moved nearer the aisle.... No, he could not see her—only the fold of - her dress and the bit of grey fur. He was glad she was warmly dressed. The - weather was keener to-day. He must get Rosalind a wrap—something - warm like that and lined with fur—soft and grey and deep. Everything - the woman had he would like Rosalind to have—perhaps it might atone—a - little—for the light in his heart. He had not felt like this for - Rosalind.... But how should they have known. They were only a boy and girl—and - some moonlight.... And all the time this other woman was waiting—somewhere.... - No one had told him. If some one had said to him: “Wait, she is coming—you - must wait!” But no one knew, no one had told him.... Did <i>she</i> know, - across there in her place, did she know—had she waited—for - him? He stirred a little. Some one might be with her now; or she might be - waiting for some one. But he could not go to her.... And yet—why not—?—He - had only to cross the aisle—and put back the curtains—and look - at her.... He shook himself and lifted his glass and drank grimly. He was - a lawyer; his name was Eldridge Walcott; he lived in a brick house and he - had children—three children—<i>That</i> was the real world; - this other thing was—madness.... So this was the way men felt! This - was it, was it—very clean and whole—as if life were beginning - for them—they had made mistakes, but they would try again; they saw - something bigger and better than they had ever known—and they - reached out to it. Men were not wicked, as he had thought—It was a - strange world where you had to be wicked to do things—like this!... - And there might be some one with her now! Under the voices and the music - he fancied he could hear them talking in low tones; their voices seemed to - come and go vaguely; half guessed, not constant, but quiet and happy.... - Or was it his own heart that beat to her—the words it could - speak?... He would not speak to her—but he would not go away.... He - would wait till she moved back the curtain and stepped out. - </p> - <p> - Then he half remembered something—and looked at his watch—he - had promised Rosalind to wait for the boys and take them to the dentist’s. - She had said she could not go this afternoon and he had promised to wait - at the office; he had not meant to come here.... He slipped back the watch - and stood up and hesitated—and turned away. He might never see her - now. Well, he had promised Rosalind. Somehow, the promise to Rosalind must - be kept—now. The letter of the law must be kept! - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - They were waiting for him in the hall by his office door, sitting at the - top of the flight of stairs and peering down into the elevator-shaft as - the elevator shot up and down. He saw them as he stepped out, and smiled - at them. They were fresh, wholesome boys, and he had a sense, as he fitted - the key in the lock and they stood waiting behind his bent back, that they - belonged to him. He had always thought of them as Rosalind’s boys! - </p> - <p> - He threw open the door and they went in, looking about them almost shyly; - they were not shy boys, but father was a big man—and they looked at - the place where he worked.... Some time they would be—men and have - an office.... - </p> - <p> - Eldridge Walcott turned back from the desk that he had opened. He had - taken out a little roll of paper and slipped it into his pocket. Their - eyes followed him gravely. He looked at them standing—half in their - world, half in his—and smiled to them. - </p> - <p> - “You had to wait a good while, didn’t you?” he said. - </p> - <p> - They nodded together. “Most an hour,” said Tommie. - </p> - <p> - “Well, that’s all right—Something kept me. Come on.” - </p> - <p> - When they reached home that evening he handed the little roll of paper he - had taken from the desk to Rosalind. “I have doubled it,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “There will be enough for everything you want.” - </p> - <p> - For a minute she did not speak. Then she took it. “Thank you,” she said - slowly. - </p> - <p> - “I want you to get a suit, you know—a good one—” He paused. “—And - you need something warm—a fur-lined wrap or something—don’t - you?” - </p> - <p> - She wrinkled the little line between her eyes. “It is—so late—the - winter is half gone already.” Then her face cleared. “I think I’ll—wait - till spring,” she said. - </p> - <p> - He could almost fancy something danced at him, mocked him behind the still - face. - </p> - <p> - He turned away, the deep, hurt feeling coming close. “Get what you like,” - he said. “I want you to have enough.” - </p> - <p> - The money lay in her hand, and her fingers opened on it and closed on it. - Then she breathed softly, like a sigh, and went to her desk and put it - away. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - VI - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HROUGH the weeks - that followed Eldridge watched the things money could buy quietly taking - their place in the house. Little comforts that he had not missed—had - not known any one could miss—were at hand. The children looked - somehow subtly different. He had a sense of expansion, softly breaking - threads of habit, expectancy. Only Rosalind seemed unchanged. Yet each - time he looked at her he fancied that she <i>had</i> changed—more - than all of them. He could not keep his eyes from her. Something was - hidden in her—Something he did not know—that he would never - know. Perhaps he should die and not know it.... Did the dead know things—everything? - He seemed to remember hazily from Sunday-school—something—If - he were dead, he might come close to her—as close as the little - thoughts behind her eyes—— - </p> - <p> - The cold grew keener, and Eldridge, shivering home from the office, - remembered a pair of fur gloves in the attic. He had not worn them for - years. But after supper he took a light and went to look for them. - </p> - <p> - It was cold there, in the attic, and he shivered a little, looking about - the dusty place. There were boxes stacked along under the eaves and - garments hanging grotesquely from the beams. He knew where Rosalind kept - the gloves; he had seen them one day last summer when he was looking for - window netting. It had not seemed to him then, in the hot attic, that any - one could ever need gloves. He set down the lamp on a box and drew out a - trunk and looked in it; they were not there. She must have changed the - place of things—he would have to go down and ask her. - </p> - <p> - Then his eye sought out a box pushed far back under the eaves—he did - not remember that he had ever seen that box; he glanced at it—and - half turned away to pick up the lamp—and turned back. He could not - have told why he felt that he must open it. He had set the light on a box - a little above him, and it glimmered down on the box that he drew out and - opened—and on a smooth piece of tissue-paper under the cover——A - faint perfume came from beneath the paper, and he lifted it. There was a - pair of long grey gloves—with the shape of a woman’s hand still - softly held in the finger-tips.... He lifted them and stared and moistened - his lips and ran his hand down inside the box to the bottom—soft, - filmy stuff that yielded and sprang back.... He kneeled before it, half on - his heels, peering down. He bent forward and lifted the things out—white - things with threaded ribbon and lace—things such as Eldridge Walcott - had never seen—delicate, web-like things—then a fur-lined coat - and a grey dress and, at the bottom, a little linked something. He lifted - it and peered at it and at the coins shining through the meshes and - dropped it back. - </p> - <p> - He stood up and looked about him vaguely... after a minute he shivered a - little. It was very cold in the attic. He knelt down and tried to put the - things back; but his fingers shook, and the things took queer shapes and - fell apart, and a soft perfume came from them that confused him. He tried - to steady himself—he began at the bottom, putting each thing - carefully in place... smoothing it down. - </p> - <p> - The door below creaked. A voice listened.... “You up there, Eldridge?” - </p> - <p> - He straightened himself... out of a thousand thoughts and questions. - “Where are my fur gloves?” he said quietly. He took the light from its box - and came over to the stairs. - </p> - <p> - Her face, lifted to him, was in the light and he could see the rays of - light falling on it—and on the stillness, like a pool.... - </p> - <p> - “They’re in the black trunk,” said Rosalind. Her foot moved to the stair—“I’ll - get them for you.” - </p> - <p> - “No—Don’t come up,” he said. “It’s cold here. I know—I was - just looking there.” - </p> - <p> - So she went back, closing the door behind her to keep out the cold. - </p> - <p> - When Eldridge came down he did not look at her. He blew out the light and - put the gloves with his hat in the hall and came over with his paper and - sat down. - </p> - <p> - She was standing by the fire, bending over a pair of socks that she had - been washing out. She was hanging them in front of the fire, pulling out - the toes. Her eyes looked at him inquiringly as her fingers went on - stretching the little toes. - </p> - <p> - “Did you find them?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” He opened his paper slowly. She went on fussing at the socks, a - little, absent smile on her face. “If it keeps on like this I must get - heavier flannels for them,” she said. The look in her face was very sweet - as she bent over the small socks. - </p> - <p> - He looked up—and glanced away. “Money enough—have you?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes—plenty of money. I will get them to-morrow—if I can - go in to town—” she said. - </p> - <p> - His mind flashed to the attic above them and to the quiet alcove with the - little green curtains that shut it off. “Better dress warm if you do go,” - he said carelessly. “It is pretty cold, you know.” He took up the paper - and stared at it. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - VII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>O it was—Rosalind! - He sat in his office and stared at the blotter on his desk.... It was a - green blotter——-For years after Eldridge Walcott could not see - a green blotter without a little, sudden sense of upheaval; he would walk - into a plain commercial office—suddenly the walls hovered, the - furniture moved subtly—even the floor grew a little unsteady before - he could come with a jerk to a green blotter on the roller-top desk—and - face it squarely. The blotter on his own desk was exchanged for a crimson - one—the next day. He would have liked to change everything in the - room. The very furniture seemed to mock him—to question.... - </p> - <p> - So it was—Rosalind! Rosalind—was like that—! His heart - gave a quick beat—like a boy’s—and stood still.... Rosalind - was like that—for—somebody else.... He stared at the blotter - and drew a pad absently toward him. - </p> - <p> - The office boy stuck his head in the door and drew it back. He shook it at - a short, heavy man with a thinnish, black-grey beard who was hovering - near. “He told me not to disturb him—not for anybody,” the boy said - importantly. - </p> - <p> - The man took a card from his pocket and wrote on it. “Take him that.” The - boy glanced at the name and at the thin, blackish beard. There was a large - wart on the man’s chin where the beard did not grow. The boy’s eyes rested - on it—and looked away to the card. “I ’ll—ask him—” he - said. - </p> - <p> - The man nodded. “Take him that first.” - </p> - <p> - The boy went in. - </p> - <p> - The man walked to the window and looked down; the thick flesh at the back - of his neck overlapped a little on the collar of his well-cut coat and the - heavy shoulders seemed to shrug themselves under the smooth fit. - </p> - <p> - The boy’s eyes surveyed the back respectfully. “You’re to come in,” he - says. - </p> - <p> - The man turned and went in and Eldridge Walcott looked up. “I’m sorry to - have kept you waiting.” - </p> - <p> - “That’s all right.” The man sat down a little heavily—as if he were - tired. “That’s all right. I waited because I wanted to see you. I want - some one to do—a piece of work—for me—” - </p> - <p> - “Yes?” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t care to have my regular man on it—” - </p> - <p> - “You have Clarkson, don’t you?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes—I have Clarkson.” The man waited. “Clarkson’s all right—for - business,” he said. “I want a different sort—for this.” - </p> - <p> - He felt in the pocket of his coat and drew out a letter, and then another, - and held them, looking down at them absently, turning them over in his - hand. - </p> - <p> - “It’s a divorce—” he said. He went on turning the letters in his - hand but not looking at them. “I’ve waited as long as I could,” he added - after a minute. “It’s no use—” He laid the letters on the desk. “It - took a detective—and money—to get ’em. I reckon they’ll do the - business,” he said. - </p> - <p> - Eldridge reached out his hand for them. The man’s errand startled him a - little. He had been going over divorce on the green blotter when the boy - came in. He opened the letters slowly. A little faint perfume drifted up—and - between him and the words came a sense of the blackish-grey beard and the - wart in among it. He had stared at it, fascinated, while the man - talked.... He could imagine what it might mean to a woman, day after day. - He focussed his attention on the letter—and read it and took up the - other and laid it down.... - </p> - <p> - “Yes—Those are sufficient,” he said almost curtly. He took up his - pen. “Your middle initial is J?” - </p> - <p> - “Gordon J.,” said the man. - </p> - <p> - Eldridge traced the name. “And your wife?” - </p> - <p> - The man stared at him. - </p> - <p> - “Her full name—” said Eldridge. - </p> - <p> - “Her name is Cordelia Rose—Barstow,” said the man. - </p> - <p> - Eldridge wrote it efficiently. “Do you name any one as co-respondent?” - </p> - <p> - “I name—his name is—” The man gulped and his puffy face was - grim. “John E. Tower is his name,” he said slowly. - </p> - <p> - Eldridge filled in the paper before him and laid a blotter across it. - “That is sufficient. I will file the application to-morrow. There will be - no trouble. She will not contest it—?” - </p> - <p> - The man swallowed a little. “No—She wants—to be free—” - He ended the words defiantly, but with a kind of shame. - </p> - <p> - Eldridge made no reply. He was seeing a quiet figure, with bent head, - smiling at something—something that shut him out. He looked across - to the man. - </p> - <p> - The man’s eyes met his. “That’s all you need—is it?” He seemed a - little disappointed. “No more to it than this?” - </p> - <p> - “That’s all,” said Eldridge. - </p> - <p> - But the man did not get up. “I don’t know how it happened,” he said. “You - see, I never guessed—not till two weeks—ten days ago or so.” - </p> - <p> - “I see—” - </p> - <p> - “I’d always trusted Cordelia—I hadn’t ever thought as she could do - anything like that—not <i>my</i> wife!” - </p> - <p> - “One doesn’t usually expect it of one’s—own wife.” Eldridge laughed - a little, but it was not unkindly, and the man seemed to draw toward him. - </p> - <p> - “I’ve never mentioned it—except to that detective, and I didn’t tell - him—any more than I had to—He didn’t seem to need much telling—” - he said dryly. “He seemed to sense just about what had been going on—without - telling.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes—?” Eldridge was looking thoughtfully into the greyish-black - beard with the round lump in it. - </p> - <p> - “He’s got the facts. It took him just two weeks—to get ’em.” His - hand motioned toward the letters, but there was something in the face—a - kind of puffy appeal. - </p> - <p> - Eldridge nodded. “They know what to do,” he said quietly. - </p> - <p> - “I hadn’t even mistrusted,” said the man. His eyes were looking at - something that Eldridge could not see—something that seemed to come - from a faint perfume in the room.... “I can see it plain enough now—looking - back.... You don’t mind my telling you—a little—about it.” - Eldridge shook his head. The man seemed a kind of lumbering boy, yet he - was a shrewd, keen man in business. - </p> - <p> - “It might help—you know—” he said. “I thought you’d ask me, - probably—I’d kind of planned to tell you, I guess.” He laughed a - little awkwardly. - </p> - <p> - “Go ahead,” said Eldridge. - </p> - <p> - “He was <i>my</i> friend, you see. And I brought him home with me and made - ’em friends.... I can see now, looking back, what a fool I was—about - it. But I didn’t see it—then. I don’t know now what it was about - him.... He’s old as I be—and I’ve got the money. I can give her - everything she wants—more than he can. But I know now that from the - first day she see him she was curious about him.... I’d brought him home - to dinner one night—It was just after we were married.... I always - kind of think of him that night—the way he looked at table—he’s - tall—You know him—?” - </p> - <p> - Eldridge nodded. He was seeing the tall, distinguished figure—and - beside it a humped-up one across his desk. - </p> - <p> - “We had red lamp-shades and candles and flowers—Everything shining, - you know—Cordelia likes ’em that way.... When I try to think how it - started I see ’em the way they looked that first night. I was proud of ’em - both. I felt as if Cordelia belonged to me—and as if he did, too—in - a way—” He looked at Eldridge. “I’d put him on to a good thing in - business—!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - “He and Cordelia laughed and talked the whole evening—kind o’ took - it up—back and forth—the way you’d play ball. I could see - Cordelia liked him. I was a fool. I’d waited about getting married till I - had money enough to give a woman—to give her everything—and - when she’d got it I never see there might be—something else she’d - want.... I don’t just know what now—” He shook his head. - </p> - <p> - “Some days, since I’ve got sure of it, I’ve felt as if it <i>couldn’t</i> - be so—as if she couldn’t have gone on living with me and having that - other life—I didn’t know about—shut away from me—and I - loving her....” The little, clear alcove moved before Eldridge and moved - away. He was making absent marks on the edge of the pad before him. - </p> - <p> - The man sighed. “Well—It isn’t any use! That’s all, I guess—” - Eldridge looked up. “Had you thought of—winning her back?” - </p> - <p> - The man shook his head. “I couldn’t do it.” He looked at him as if - wondering whether he would understand. “There’s something about her I - don’t get at,” he said slowly. - </p> - <p> - “Isn’t there something about any woman you don’t get at?” said Eldridge. - </p> - <p> - “That’s it!” assented the man. “It isn’t just Cordelia. It’s all of them—in - back of ’em, somehow. I can’t tell you just how it is, but I’ve thought of - it a lot—I guess there isn’t anything I haven’t thought of—since - I knew—lying awake nights and thinking. Somehow, I knew, the first - day it came to me—I knew there wasn’t any use... since the day I - come on ’em at Merwin’s.” - </p> - <p> - The lawyer’s hand, making its little marks, stopped—and went on. - “They were at Merwin’s—together?” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Everybody goes to Merwin’s,” said the man. “It wasn’t their being there; - it was the way they looked when I saw ’em.... They were sitting in one of - them little alcove places, you know—” - </p> - <p> - Eldridge nodded. Yes—he knew. - </p> - <p> - “The curtains were open—wide open,” said the man. “Anybody could ’a’ - looked in. There wasn’t anything wrong about it. But I saw their faces—both - of ’em—and I knew.... They were just sitting quiet—the way - people do when they’re alone.... There’s something different about the way - people sit—when they’re alone—by themselves—I don’t know - as you’ve ever noticed it?” - </p> - <p> - “I have noticed it,” said Eldridge. “Quiet and happy—” said the man, - “and not talking—and not needing to talk.” He took up his hat. “Well—you - know where to find me. I shan’t bother you like this again——” - He stood up. - </p> - <p> - Eldridge held out a hand. “I am glad you told me. It helps—to - understand—the case.” - </p> - <p> - The man’s thick face looked at him. “I don’t understand it myself,” he - said, “but I’ve got to go through with it.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - VIII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">E</span>LDRIDGE went on - making little marks on the edge of the paper. He no longer stared at the - blotter; he was seeing things. Gordon Barstow’s recital had shown things - to him in perspective and his own trouble seemed moved far away from him - to a kind of clear place. He sat and looked at it—making little - marks on the paper. Rosalind was not to blame. A woman like Rosalind had - the right—she could do what she wanted! What had <i>he</i> ever done - to win her—to keep her? Not even money. He had kept it for himself—and - built up a comfortable fortune.... He had the fortune—yes. And he - had lost Rosalind.... He suddenly saw himself in the clear light—he - was not lovable like old Barstow. The vision grew before him—all his - saving closeness, his dulness—a lifeless prig!... And then the - picture of Rosalind, the vision of her in her alcove—“the way people - sit when they are alone—I don’t know as you ever noticed—?” - old Barstow had said. - </p> - <p> - Well, then—what was to be done? His shoulders squared a little. No - man was going to win Rosalind—without a fight! The man who would win - her should reckon with him.... He had never known Rosalind. Perhaps - Rosalind had never known him.... What had he given her—to know him - by? She had had the right to work for him, to sweep his floors and make - his bed and take care of the children... She should have money now. She - should become a partner—in all his plans—and suddenly - El-dridge Walcott saw that money would not win her—money would not - buy the gracious presence in the alcove; she did not need money.... He - must give his soul—to win her—Then he took out his soul and - looked at it—the shrunken, dry, rattling thing—and flicked it - from him with a finger-nail. - </p> - <p> - The office boy put his head in cautiously. - </p> - <p> - “What do you want?” said Eldridge harshly. - </p> - <p> - “It’s Mr. Dutton,” said the boy. - </p> - <p> - “Well, show him in.” - </p> - <p> - And while Mr. Dutton talked of real estate, Eldridge’s soul peeped out at - the man. He wanted to stop the flow of facts and figures and put a - straight question to him. “How do you get on with your wife, Mr. Dutton?” - he wanted to say to him. He could see the man’s startled face checked in - its flow of fact.... It would not do; of course it would not do to ask him - how he got on with his wife. Probably he got on with her as Eldridge - Walcott had done—sewing, sweeping, eating, saving—“So I have - decided,” the man was saying, “to take the entire block—if the title - is good.” - </p> - <p> - Eldridge Walcott bowed him out and turned back from the door. But he did - not sit down. He would go to Merwin’s. Perhaps she was there—she had - said she might come in to town.... But, with his hand on the door, he - paused——Suppose he found her—What then?—and the - man with her? What then?—Suppose he found her! There was nothing he - could do—not yet! He would win her back.... But the man he had to - reckon with was not the man sitting with her now, perhaps, in the alcove. - The man he had to reckon with was Eldridge Walcott—the little, - shrunken, undersized Eldridge Walcott. - </p> - <p> - He saw it—standing with his hand on the door, looking down—and - he looked at it a long minute. - </p> - <p> - Then he opened the door. - </p> - <p> - The office boy wheeled about from the window-shade that was stuck halfway - up. - </p> - <p> - “I am ready to see anybody that comes, Burton,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “All right,” said the boy. “This old thing gets stuck every other day!” He - jerked at it. - </p> - <p> - Eldridge came across and looked at the cord and straightened it and went - back to his room. The little incident strengthened him subtly. He had - never yet failed in anything he undertook, big or little—he had - always succeeded in what he undertook—And suddenly he saw that - Eldridge Walcott had never in his life undertaken anything that was not - small.... He had done small, safe things. He had straightened - window-shades all his life—and he had never failed! - </p> - <p> - He had always had a half-veiled contempt for men who ran risks. Find a - safe thing and hold on to it had been his policy. It had brought him - through smugly. He had never made a mistake.... The nearest he had ever - come to a risk was before he asked Rosalind to marry him. There had been - something about her that he could not fathom, something that drew him—and - made him afraid—a kind of sweet mystery... that would not let him be - safe. Then it had seemed so safe afterward; they had lived together - quietly without a break. The young Rosalind who had taught him to be - afraid he had forgotten—and now young Rosalind had come back... she - had come back to him and with deeper mystery.... This was the real - Rosalind, the other was only a shadowy promise.... The young Rosalind - would try him for his soul—and he had—no soul! - </p> - <p> - Who was that other man in the alcove with her—the man who had won - her? Who was it she had found to understand the mystery—to look up - to her and worship her—as he had worshipped Rosalind, the girl; as - he had worshipped Rosalind—and let her go! - </p> - <p> - And he had been thinking about divorce! Thinking of the grounds for it and - how he should get grounds of divorce—as Gordon Barstow had done. He - glanced at the two letters on his desk and at the little, jotted notes of - the Barstow case and a smile flitted to them—grounds for divorce - from Rosalind! He saw her, in her freedom, moving from him.... His teeth - set a little. She should never leave him! She should stay with him. She - should stay because he wanted her—and because she wanted him! - </p> - <p> - And through the rest of the day, as clients came and went, he saw - something new. He saw cases differently. Men were accustomed to come to - him because he was a “safe” man.... Well, he was not quite safe to-day—But - he knew underneath, as he worked, that his advice had never been so worth - while. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - IX - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>E had left the - office early and had caught a car that was passing the corner as he came - out. As soon as he entered he knew that Rosalind was in the car, three - seats ahead. He gave a little start, a quick flash—he did not want - to catch Rosalind off guard—Then he smiled; it was not Rosalind of - the alcove—it was the plain, every-day Rosalind, her lap heaped with - bundles, and bundles on the seat beside her. Rosalind’s flannels, he - thought, probably. - </p> - <p> - He moved down the aisle and stood beside the seat, lifting his hat and - looking down at her. - </p> - <p> - “Why, Eldridge!” She looked up with the little peering smile and made a - place for him among the bundles, trying to gather them up into her lap. - </p> - <p> - But he swept them away. “I’ll take these,” he said. - </p> - <p> - The little distressed look came between her eyes. Eldridge couldn’t bear - bundles. “I thought I wouldn’t wait to have them sent,” she apologized. - “It’s so cold—and they need them—right off.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes—” He looked at her jacket; it was thin, with the shabby lining - showing at the edge. “Did you get yourself a warm wrap?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - She was looking out of the window, and the line of her cheek flushed - swiftly. “No—I—” - </p> - <p> - “I want you to do it—at once.” - </p> - <p> - She glanced at him—a little questioning look in her face. “I—have—seen - something I like—” she said. - </p> - <p> - “Get it to-morrow. I will order it for you when I go in.” - </p> - <p> - Her hands made a gesture above the bundles. “Please don’t, Eldridge. I - would rather—do it—myself.” - </p> - <p> - “Very well. But remember to get it.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes—I will get it.” She sighed softly. - </p> - <p> - Deceitful Rosalind! If he had not seen for himself the box in the attic - with its overflowing soft colors and the grey fur, he would not have - believed the deceit of her face.... - </p> - <p> - Not that he was blaming anybody. He was not blaming Rosalind. The picture - of Mr. Eldridge Walcott remained with him.... He was not likely to forget - how Mr. Eldridge Walcott had looked to him—in the flash of light. - </p> - <p> - Perhaps he looked like that to Rosalind—to both Rosalinds! He turned - a little in the seat and glanced down at her—Yes, they were both - there—the plain little figure in its shabby jacket and the reticent, - beautiful woman of the alcove. - </p> - <p> - The fingers in cheap gloves were fussing at a parcel. “I got fleece-lined - shirts for Tommie—his skin is so sensitive—I thought I would - try fleece-lined ones for him.” - </p> - <p> - Damn fleece-lined ones! Would she never talk to him except of undershirts—and - coal-hods? He took the paper from his pocket and glanced casually at it. - </p> - <p> - “Has coal gone up?” she asked. “They said it would go up—if it - stayed cold.” The anxious, lines were in her face. - </p> - <p> - He put down the paper and leaned toward her. He felt nearer to her, in a - street car, than in his own home. “Don’t you worry about coal, Rosalind! - We shall not freeze—nor starve.” - </p> - <p> - She stared a little. “Of course, we shall not freeze, Eldridge!” - </p> - <p> - “I mean there is plenty—to be comfortable with. You are not to worry - and pinch.” - </p> - <p> - A quick look flooded out at him—a look of the Rosalind within. “You - mean we can <i>afford</i> not to worry?” - </p> - <p> - He saw the prig Eldridge Walcott, walking in serene knowledge of a - comfortable income while the little lines had gathered in her face. He - longed to kick the respectable Mr. Eldridge Walcott from behind. - </p> - <p> - “There is quite enough money,” he said. “I am doing better than I have—and - I shall do better yet.” - </p> - <p> - She looked down at the bundles. “I might have got a better quality,” she - said. - </p> - <p> - “Take them all back,” said Eldridge. “I’ll take them—” - </p> - <p> - But she shook her head. “No, they need them to-morrow—and these will - do—” She smiled at them. “It’s really more the feeling that you <i>can</i> - get better ones, isn’t it? You don’t mind wearing old things—if you - know you could have better ones—if you wanted to—” She broke - off vaguely. - </p> - <p> - He saw the box in the attic—all the filmy softness—and he saw - the ill-fitting, cheap gloves resting in her lap—That was what had - saved her—the real Rosalind. Some one had seen that her soul should - be in its own clothes, now and then, and happy and free. You could not - quite be jealous of a man who had done that for you—who had clothed - Rosalind’s soul, could you? - </p> - <p> - He could not think of the man who had clothed Rosalind’s soul—who - had kept alive something that was precious. He could not hate the man. But - there was no place in his thoughts for him. - </p> - <p> - Suppose, after all, Rosalind belonged to the man who saw her soul and - clothed it? Suppose Rosalind belonged to him!... Very well—<i>he - should not have her!</i> - </p> - <p> - He helped her from the car with her bundles, and as he fitted the key in - the door the wind struck them fiercely; they were almost blown in with the - force of it as the door opened. They stood in the hall, laughing, safe—the - wind shut out——There was a quick color in her face, and it - lifted to him, laughing freshly, like a girl’s. - </p> - <p> - They were together. She had not looked at him like that for years. - </p> - <p> - He pondered on the look as she went about getting supper. He watched her - come and go and wondered awkwardly whether he might not offer to go out - and help. He went at last into the kitchen; she was putting coal on the - fire and he took the hod from her, throwing on the coal. - </p> - <p> - She looked at him, puzzled. “Are you in a hurry for supper, Eldridge?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh—No.” He went back to the living-room, and talked a little with - the children, amusing them quietly. He had a home sense, a feeling that - the room was a kind of presence; the wind howling outside could not touch - them.. - </p> - <p> - And when Rosalind came in and they sat at the table and he looked across - to her shyly, almost like a boy, he wished he knew what would please her - best. He could not keep his eyes off her hand as it grasped the handle of - the teapot and poured his tea. It seemed such a mysterious hand with the - roughened finger pricks—and the little gentle hand inside that did - no work. He wanted to take the hand, to touch it.... Of course, a man - would not take his wife’s hand—like that. He could see the startled - look in Rosalind’s eyes if he should reach out.... There was a long road - to travel—and he did not know the way. - </p> - <p> - But he could begin softly with clothes—and touch her hand later - perhaps. She should have beautiful things———He had told - her to buy the fur-lined coat. - </p> - <p> - He pictured her in it—the coat that <i>his</i> money should buy—he - saw her wrapped in it, and he sat still thinking of her and of the coat - his money should buy. Then the door opened and he looked up. - </p> - <p> - She was standing in the door—and about her was a long grey coat - lined with fur—the coat of the alcove. Her eyes looked at him over - the soft fur of the collar. - </p> - <p> - He sprang to his feet—then he checked the word on his lip. - </p> - <p> - He must not let her speak. It was the coat of the alcove. She would wear - it silently. But she would not tell him. She must not be frightened into - saying something that was not true. He came over to her and touched the - edge of the fur, as if questioning it, and she smiled and opened it out. - “Is it warm enough?” she asked proudly. - </p> - <p> - She stood with the garment extended like wings, and he held his breath. - </p> - <p> - Then she drew it together softly. - </p> - <p> - “I have had it some time,” she said. “I was keeping it to surprise you!” - </p> - <p> - His breath came quick. How much would she tell him? He looked at it - critically. “Was it a bargain?” he asked.. - </p> - <p> - “No—Not a bargain.” And she stroked the edge of the fur. “I saw it - and liked it—and I got it.” - </p> - <p> - “That’s right. That’s the way to buy all your clothes.” He looked at it a - minute lightly and turned away. - </p> - <p> - She could not have guessed from his gesture that he was disappointed, but - her eyes followed him. “I hope you won’t think I paid too much—for - it?” - </p> - <p> - “What did you pay?” he asked. His back was toward her. - </p> - <p> - “I paid—two hundred dollars,” she said. The words came lightly, and - there was a little pause. - </p> - <p> - “No, I don’t think that was too much.” He had turned and was looking at - her—straight. “I would have paid more than two hundred—to give - it to you,” he said slowly. - </p> - <p> - She made no reply, but her eyes regarded him gravely over the edge of the - collar. Wrapped in the coat, she seemed for a moment the woman of the - alcove. - </p> - <p> - He looked at her blindly. - </p> - <p> - She returned the look a minute—and turned away slowly and went out. - </p> - <p> - Eldridge walked to the table and stood looking down.... He had given her, - in all, not more than two hundred and fifty dollars. Did she expect him—to - believe—that all the things that had come into the house since had - not cost more than fifty dollars? - </p> - <p> - It was as if she flaunted it at him—as if she wanted him to know - that it could not have been <i>his</i> money that bought it!... So that - was it! She had seen—she had guessed the change in him—and - this was her guard? She would force him to know—to accuse her. - </p> - <p> - Old Barstow’s words came to him mockingly: “No—she will not contest - it. She wants—to be—free.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - X - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>UT if she wished - him to know she gave no other sign. - </p> - <p> - She spent the money that he gave her, and when it was gone she asked him - for more. - </p> - <p> - Only once she had said as she took it: “You are sure it is right for me to - spend this?” - </p> - <p> - And he had replied: “When you ask for anything I cannot give you I will - let you know.” - </p> - <p> - She had said nothing. She had not even glanced at him. But somehow he - fancied that she understood him. - </p> - <p> - He grew to know, by intuition, the days when she would go to Merwin’s. - </p> - <p> - As he left the house he would say: “She will be there—” And when he - dropped in, in the afternoon, he did not even need to glance at the alcove - on the right. He would sit down quietly in his place across the aisle, - glad to be with her. - </p> - <p> - He never saw her come and go and he did not know whether any one was with - her—behind her curtain. He tried not to know.... He was trying to - understand Rosalind. What was it drew her? Was it music—or the quiet - place? Or was there———? - </p> - <p> - He could easily have known.... Gordon Barstow’s detective would have made - sure for him in a day.... But Eldridge did not want to know—anything - that a detective could tell him. He did not want to be told by detectives - or told things detectives could tell. He was studying Rosalind’s every - wish—as if he were a boy. - </p> - <p> - He did not go to Merwin’s till he felt sure that she would be there in the - alcove, and he left before she drew the little curtain and came out. He - did not want to know.... He only wanted her to be there—and to sit - with her a little while, quietly.... - </p> - <p> - He would wait and understand. - </p> - <p> - A piano had come into the house and the boys were taking lessons. One day - he discovered that Rosalind was learning, too. - </p> - <p> - He had come home early, wondering whether he would ask her to go for a - walk with him. He had asked her once or twice and they had gone for a - little while before supper, walking aimlessly through the suburban - streets, saying very little; he had fancied that Rosalind liked it—but - he could not be sure. - </p> - <p> - He opened the door with his latchkey and stepped in. Some one was playing - softly, stopping to sing a little, and then playing again.... Rosalind was - alone. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0127.jpg" alt="0127 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0127.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - He stood very quiet in the dark hall; only a little light from above the - door—shining on the stair rail and on a lamp that hung above it.... - She was playing with the lightest touch—a few notes, as if feeling - her way, and then the little singing voice answering it.... So she was - like this—very still and happy—and he was shut out. His hand - groped behind him for the latch and found it and opened the door, and he - stepped outside and closed the door softly. - </p> - <p> - He stood a moment in the wind. Behind his door he heard the music playing - to itself.... - </p> - <p> - He walked for a long time that afternoon—along the dull streets, - staring at brick houses and at children running past him on brick - walks.... It was all brick walks and long rows of houses—and - dulness; he could not reach Rosalind. He could buy clothes for her—more - bricks... and there was the music—his mind halted—and went on. - </p> - <p> - Music made her happy—like that! He bought an evening paper and - studied it awhile, standing by the newsstand, with the cars and taxis - shooting past. Presently he folded the paper and took a car that was going - toward town. There was something he could do for Rosalind—something - that no one had thought of—something that she would like! - </p> - <p> - He was as eager and as ignorant as a boy, standing in front of the barred - ticket window and looking in. - </p> - <p> - “Tickets for the Symphony?” The man glanced out at him. “House sold out.” - </p> - <p> - Eldridge stared back. “You mean—I cannot—get them!” - </p> - <p> - “Something may come in. You can leave your name.” The man pushed paper and - pencil toward him. - </p> - <p> - Eldridge wrote his name slowly. “I want—good ones.” - </p> - <p> - “Can’t say—” said the man. - </p> - <p> - “There are six ahead of you—” He took up the paper and made a note. - </p> - <p> - Eldridge stepped outside. A man looked at him and moved up, falling into - step beside him. “I have a couple of tickets—” he said softly. - </p> - <p> - He did not know that he was speaking to a man on a quest, a man who would - have paid whatever he might ask for the slips of paper in his hand—They - were not mere symphony tickets he sold. They were tickets to the fields of - the sun. He asked five dollars for them; he might have got fifty. - </p> - <p> - Eldridge slipped them into his pocket. He stepped back into the hall. “I - shall not need those tickets,” he said. - </p> - <p> - The man in the window glanced at him, indifferent, and crossed out a name. - </p> - <p> - All the way home Eldridge’s heart laughed. Would she like it?... She had - played so softly... she would listen like that—and he would be with - her.... He could not keep the tickets in his pocket. He took them out and - looked at them—two plain blue slips with a few black marks on - them.... And he had thought of it himself!—It was not Mr. El-dridge - Walcott’s money that bought them for her.... Would she understand it was - not money—? - </p> - <p> - She took them from him with half-pleased face—“For the Symphony?” - she said. - </p> - <p> - “I thought you might—we—. might like it—” - </p> - <p> - She looked at them a minute. “I never went to a symphony—” - </p> - <p> - “Nor I—” He laughed a little. “I thought we might—try it.” - </p> - <p> - She was still regarding them thoughtfully. “I haven’t anything to wear—have - I—?” She looked up with the wrinkled line between her eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Wear your—” He checked it on his tongue. “Get something—There’s - a week, you know. You can get something, can’t you?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, if you think I ought—” - </p> - <p> - “Of course—get what you need.” She waited thoughtfully.... “I have—a - dress that might do—with a little changing—” she said. - </p> - <p> - He saw with a flash, suddenly, the dark attic above them—and a man - on his knees staring down at the grey and shimmering whiteness. “Better - get something new, wouldn’t you?” said Eldridge. - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps—I will think—about it.” - </p> - <p> - He could not have told which he wished——-But when, the night - of the concert, she came down to him wearing the grey dress and long grey - gloves, with the lace falling softly back—he knew in the flash, as - he looked at her, that he was glad.... - </p> - <p> - She was buttoning one of the gloves and the long grey coat hung from her - arm. She did not look up. - </p> - <p> - He took it from her and wrapped her in it. - </p> - <p> - They were going to another world—together. She was going—with - him. - </p> - <p> - There was a little, quiet flush in her face as she sat in the car. Other - people were going to the concert, and she looked at them as they came in - and sat down. - </p> - <p> - And Eldridge looked at Rosalind. He did not speak to her.... They were - going to a new world—and the car was taking them.... Bits of talk—color—drifting - fragrance as the coats fell back.... The woman across the aisle had a - bunch of violets.... - </p> - <p> - Why had he not thought to get violets for Rosalind! Would she have liked - flowers—? She seemed a strange Rosalind, sitting beside him in the - car in her grey dress—her eyes like little stars.... They had three - children... and a brick house.... - </p> - <p> - The car jolted on. Eldridge would have wished that it might never stop.... - There would not be another night like this. He could put out his hand and - touch mystery.... Then he was helping her over the crowded street and they - were in the hall—with flowers everywhere—and something close - about you that touched you when you moved. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - For years afterward he looked back to that Symphony with Rosalind. He had - come blindly to a door—as blindly as, when a boy, he had walked in - the moonlight—and they had gone in together. They were like children - in its strangeness. And as children explore a new field, they went - forward. It belonged to them—the lights and people, and vibrations - everywhere.... They would go till they came to the end—but there - would be no end—always hills stretching beyond, and a wood—something - deep, mysterious in that wood.... They came to it softly, looking in, and - turned back.... Once Rosalind had turned and looked at him. - </p> - <p> - He held that fast—through the weeks and months that went by, through - the dull brick streets, he held it fast—for a moment the hidden - Rosalind had come to her window and looked out at him and smiled—before - she turned away. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XI - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE next day Gordon - Barstow had come to see him. The divorce had dragged on. It had not been - contested, but there had been delays and consultations and Eldridge had - come to know Gordon Barstow well. - </p> - <p> - He had a kind of keen, vicarious pity for Barstow. Sometimes, as he talked - with him and the simple lovableness of the man’s nature came up through - the uncouthness, he wondered whether Gordon Barstow might not have - regained his wife—if he had been determined. But he had let her go; - and after the first day he had seemed to take a kind of pleasure in the - proceedings. - </p> - <p> - “I’ve been foolish about her,” he said, sitting in Eldridge’s office. “But - I don’t want her to suffer because I’ve been foolish—and I want to - make her an allowance—a good one. I don’t want Cordelia should ever - be poor.” Eldridge looked at him. “Won’t Tower take care of that?” he - suggested. - </p> - <p> - The old man seemed to hold it—“He’ll mean to. He’s honest toward - her. I shouldn’t let him marry her if he wasn’t straight. But I want - Cordelia provided for.” - </p> - <p> - And Eldridge suddenly saw that he was thinking of her as a man thinks of - his daughter—protectingly. The soreness seemed to have gone out of - his hurt. And there was something big in his attitude toward the two who - had wronged him. “Cordelia’s only a child,” he said. “I don’t believe I’d - ’a’ minded so much—if they’d trusted me. It’s that that hurts, I - guess—thinking of the times they must ’a’ lied—and I not - knowing enough to see anything was wrong.” - </p> - <p> - Yes—it was that that hurt—the times Rosalind had slipped away - from him, before he knew—when he hadn’t eyes enough to see. He did - not mind that she went to Merwin’s. Sometimes he was impatient that she - did not go oftener. He would watch eagerly for the look in her face that - told him that to-day was a Merwin day.... He did not mind her going, now - that he knew. It was the not knowing that hurt. - </p> - <p> - Sometimes, lately, he had begun to wonder whether Rosalind knew that he - was there, whether she guessed who it was that came through the swinging - doors and sat across the aisle, always a little behind her, and went away - before she left her place.... He liked to fancy that she knew—and - did not mind. - </p> - <p> - Men and women were not so small as he had made them in his thought. There - was room in them generally for life to turn round. - </p> - <p> - It was this that Gordon Barstow had taught him, he thought. He watched the - old man’s simple preparations to make Cordelia “well off” with quiet - understanding. It was not reparation with him; it was only a steady, clear - intention in the old man’s thought that the woman he had loved and who had - gone from him should not suffer.... “I might have kept her—if I’d - understood quick enough, I guess. I’m slow—about women,” he said. - </p> - <p> - Then one day he came into the office. Eldridge had sent him word that - there were last papers to sign—and the business would be done. He - came in slowly, a little pinched with the cold. The wart in the grey-black - beard had a bluish look. Eldridge had learned not to look at the - half-hidden lump of flesh. He had fancied one day, as his eye rested on - it, that the man shrank a little. He had been surprised and he had never - looked at it again. It was the curious bluish look to-day that caught his - eye an instant. - </p> - <p> - The old man signed the papers and pushed them back. “Well, I’m glad—it’s - done.” He sat looking at them a minute. “It’s taught me more than I ever - knew before,” he said. He lifted his eyes a minute to Eldridge. “I’ve - learned things—thinking about it—and about her—” - </p> - <p> - He sat without speaking a little time. He had come to trust Eldridge, and - he seemed to like to sit quiet like this, at times, without speaking. “I - saw a woman to-day,” he said, “that made me understand—more than - Cordelia has—a woman in at Merwins.”—Eldridge leaned forward—“She - was sitting there alone,” said the old man, “and I see her face—one - of these quiet faces—not old and not young. I could ’a’ loved her if - I’d known her when I was younger—I see how she was—she sat so - quiet there. Well”—he got up and reached for his hat—“you’ve - seen me through. Thank you—for what you’ve done.” And then he went - out and Eldridge looked at his watch—Too late. She would be gone. It - was the first time he had missed her—since he knew. He had not - thought that Barstow’s business would take so long. He gathered up the - papers, filing certain ones and addressing others to be mailed.... He - should miss the old man. He had a feeling underneath his thought, as he - sorted the papers and filed them, that he was glad Barstow had sat so long - even though he had missed Rosalind.... He had seemed to want to stay. - </p> - <p> - Eldridge filed the last of the papers and looked again at his watch. It - was late, but not too late, he decided, to begin the piece of work that - had been put off for nearly a week. He became absorbed in it, and it was - seven o’clock before he left the office. - </p> - <p> - The newsboys were shouting extras—as he came out—and he put - one in his pocket. He did not open it. Some one took a seat by him in the - car and they talked till the car reached home. Then the children claimed - him; and after supper he talked a little while with Rosalind. - </p> - <p> - There was a maid now in the kitchen and Rosalind’s hands, he was thinking, - as they lay in her lap, were not red and roughened; they had a delicate - look. She sat sometimes without any sewing in them or any fussy work—talking - with him or sitting quiet. The first time she had sat so, without - speaking, he had felt as if the silence were calling out—shouting - his happiness—telling the world that Rosalind trusted him. - </p> - <p> - He opened the paper and glanced at it—and dropped it—as if he - were seeing something. - </p> - <p> - She looked up. “What is it?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - He took it up again slowly. “It’s a man—I know—Gordon Barstow. - They found him dead—in his car this afternoon. It’s some one you - never knew.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>EEKS passed and - she had not gone to Merwin’s. For a while Eldridge watched her face and - waited for the Merwin look to come.... Then he forgot it—for weeks - he did not think of it. There had been another concert; they had gone to a - play and then to another; and as the spring came on he took her for long - drives into the country; sometimes they went with the children, but more - often alone. They drove far out in the country and came back at early - dusk, the brick houses softly outlined about them. - </p> - <p> - She could not fail to see that he was devoted to her. Sometimes he brought - a flower and left it on her table; he never gave it to her directly, and - there was no response to it. Beyond the one quiet look at the concert, she - had given no sign—only that now she would sit with him silent, a - long time, as if she did not repel him. - </p> - <p> - He was working hard and the business had grown. A new class of clients was - coming to him—men with big interests—and the work often kept - him late at the office. Sometimes he would take supper in town and work - far into the evening. - </p> - <p> - It was late in June that he came home one night and found her sitting - alone in the porch—a shadowy figure—as he came up the brick - walk. - </p> - <p> - The day had been warm, but the air had grown cool now and the moon - glimmered over the houses and roofs and on the few trees and shrubs in the - yard. - </p> - <p> - They sat a long time in the porch, talking of the children and of the work - he had stayed for and a little about going away for the summer; they had - never been away in the summer, but they were going next week. He had tried - to send her earlier, when the children were through school, but she had - waited, and he had arranged for them all to get away together. - </p> - <p> - The moon rose high over the roofs and picked out the little lines of vines - on the porch and touched her face and hair. She was wearing a light dress, - something filmy, that was half in shadow, and his eyes traced the lines of - it. She was always mysterious, but often now as he looked at her he felt - that her guard was down. There were only a few steps more to cross—he - began to wonder if he should ever take them—to-night perhaps? Or was - he not, after all, the man to win her? - </p> - <p> - She did not hold him back. It was something in him that waited. He - watched, through the moonlight, the vine shadows on her face—and he - remembered the night when she lay asleep—and he had watched her face—the - stranger’s face—close to him... and a boy and girl stood in the - moonlight and looked at him mistily—and drew back—and his wife - swayed a little, rocking in her chair, and her shadow moved on the - floor.... - </p> - <p> - If he should speak—to her—now—what would she do? Would - the gentle rocking cease?... - </p> - <p> - Then, slowly, a face grew before him. He watched it shape and fade—with - its grimness and kindness and a look of pain that lay behind it—old - Barstow’s face!... He knew now—he had come out of the moonlight.... - To-morrow he would speak to Rosalind—face to face, in the clear - light of every day.... The wonder of life was hidden in the sun—not - in half lights—or moonlight.... He was not afraid now. They would go - for a long drive—and he would tell her in the sun. - </p> - <p> - But when he looked at her in the morning he knew that he was not to take - her with him out into the country. It was the Merwin look—a little - look of quiet intentness as if she dreamed and would not wake.... - </p> - <p> - He looked at it and turned away. He had not seen the look for weeks, but - he knew that he should find her there when he pushed open the swinging - doors and went in. - </p> - <p> - The curtains were drawn a little back and he knew, before he sat down, - that she was there—waiting for some one.... He had never seen her - like this—he had not been sure. He had put the thought from him when - it came. But now he knew—she was there waiting for some one, full of - happiness.... He knew her so well! She could not have a happiness he did - not share—and no one should hurt her! His hands half clinched. - </p> - <p> - He had not thought she would come—again.... Why had she come? And - this was <i>his</i> day—under the sky!... He had not thought this - day she would come to Merwin’s! - </p> - <p> - Then he waited with her. Whatever Rosalind chose—she should not - separate herself from him—or from love.... He would wait with her - and be glad with her.... The strange face—the moonlight face—did - not shut him out now.... - </p> - <p> - The swinging doors opened and closed and the man and the woman waited. - </p> - <p> - The curtains to her alcove were closed; she had reached a hand to them and - drawn them together.... But she could not shut herself away; he could see - her as clearly as if he were there with her—the bent head and gentle - face. The curtains should not shut him out. - </p> - <p> - He could not have told when it was that it came to him—He lifted his - head a minute and looked at it.... She was there waiting for some one—she - had been waiting, a long time, in her alcove—and he had not stirred! - </p> - <p> - He got up slowly and looked across to the green curtain—He moved - toward it—and put out his hand and—drew back the curtain.... - She was looking up, smiling—“You were—a long time!” she said. - </p> - <p> - Her hand motioned to the seat across the table—but he did not take - it. He stood looking down at her—He laid his hat on the table and - bent and kissed her. - </p> - <p> - Her lip trembled a little but she did not speak. - </p> - <p> - He sat down in the chair opposite and looked at her——-“Well—?” - he said. - </p> - <p> - She shook the tears from her eyes and smiled through them. “It was a long - while!” she said. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XIII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE man and the - woman in the alcove on the right had been talking a long while. Three - times the waiter had looked in and withdrawn. If he had stopped long - enough he would have seen that it seemed to be the woman who was talking. - The man sat silent, one hand shading his eyes and the eyes looking out at - her as she talked. - </p> - <p> - The waiter knew the woman. He had served her—many times. He - remembered very well the first day she came to Merwin’s—a year ago—more - than a year, perhaps. She was alone, and she had stood just inside the - swinging door—looking about her as if she were not used to places - like Merwin’s—or as if she were afraid. Something had made him think - that she was looking for some one—and he had shown her into the - third alcove on the right. But no one had come that day. She had come - again many times since, and always alone, and there was always a coin on - the table in the third alcove waiting for him. - </p> - <p> - The waiter was a little disappointed to-day.... He knew the man—Eldridge - Walcott—a lawyer—a good enough sort; but the waiter somehow - felt that they had not met until today. He had served them both alone—but - not together—until to-day.... He pushed aside the curtain and looked - in. - </p> - <p> - She was still talking.... The man made a little gesture of refusal, and he - withdrew.... - </p> - <p> - “It was when Tom sent me the five hundred—” the waiter heard her say - as the curtain fell in place. - </p> - <p> - The man in the alcove behind the curtain was looking at her—“When - did Tom send you—five hundred?” - </p> - <p> - “A year ago—a little more than a year, I think—” She paused to - think it out. “He had not sent us anything, you know—not since - little Tom was born—?” She was looking at him, straight—— - </p> - <p> - His own look did not flinch. “I know—I put it into the business—called - it investing it—for Tommie—at six per cent.” - </p> - <p> - She nodded. “Tom never liked it. I suppose mother told him—that we - had not used it to buy things with—the way he meant us to.” - </p> - <p> - “For things you needed,” said the man. “I know—I knew then—but - I took it.” He did not excuse himself—and his eyes did not look away - from her. “I was blind,” he said softly. - </p> - <p> - “That was what Tom wrote—when he sent the five hundred. He said that - I must spend it on myself—or return it to him.... And that I was to - tell him just what I bought with it—every penny of it—” She - waited a minute. - </p> - <p> - “Did he say anything else?” asked the man. “Better tell me everything, - wouldn’t you—Rosalind?” - </p> - <p> - “He said that he was not setting Eldridge Walcott up in business,” she - added after a little minute—and she smiled at him tenderly. - </p> - <p> - Eldridge returned the look—“We don’t mind—now.” - </p> - <p> - “No.”... They were silent a few minutes. “I thought—at first—I - <i>would</i> send it back. I wrote to Tom how many things we needed—for - the house—and the children—and for everything—” - </p> - <p> - “What did he say?” - </p> - <p> - “He asked me if you would <i>let</i> me spend it for the house and for the - children and for everything—if you knew about it?” - </p> - <p> - The man’s eyes were looking at Mr. Eldridge Walcott, regarding him - impartially. “I am glad that you did not let me know.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes. I sent it back—once. But Tom wrote again—all about when - we were children and when he gave me the biggest bites of candy and filled - my pail up to the top when we went berrying——-He said it was - what had made a man of him—keeping my pail full.” - </p> - <p> - Eldridge winced a little. But she did not stop. “He said he wanted me to - spend the money for the little girl <i>he</i> knew. - </p> - <p> - “I didn’t spend it—not for a long time, you know. But I kept it and - I looked at it—sometimes—and wondered.... Then one day I saw a - dress—that I liked. I thought it was like me, a little—?” She - looked at him——— - </p> - <p> - He nodded. - </p> - <p> - “So I got it—and that was the end, I guess.” She laughed - tremulously. “Everything kept coming after that. The dress seemed to make - me need— <i>everything!</i>” She spread out her hands. - </p> - <p> - Then she sat thinking—and looking at the dress that needed - everything. “I wore it at first just at home—when I was alone. I - would put it on and sit down and fold my hands—and think of - things... about Tom and about being a little girl—and about mother. - I was always rested when I took it off... and when the children came in - from school and you came home, I could bear things better.”.... - </p> - <p> - He reached out a hand and touched hers where it lay on the table.... He - had said that he should touch it—some time. He stroked it a minute - and she went on. - </p> - <p> - “Then I came here—” She made a little gesture. “I didn’t know what - it was like—I didn’t even know there was a place like this.” She - glanced around the alcove that sheltered them—with its folds of - green curtain—“But as soon as I came, I knew I should come again. I - knew it would take care of me—the way Tom wanted for me. So I spent - the money.” She lifted the little linked purse from the table—she - laughed. “Only fifty cents left—You ’re here just in time!” - </p> - <p> - Eldridge held out his hand. “Give it to me.” - </p> - <p> - She looked at him. - </p> - <p> - “I want it—yes. Aren’t you willing to give me fifty cents—of - your five hundred?” - </p> - <p> - She handed it to him with a little sigh of relief. - </p> - <p> - He took it and balanced it thoughtfully in his hand—“Why did you - come to-day?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “This is my anniversary day.” - </p> - <p> - “To-day?” - </p> - <p> - She nodded—as if she saw a vision. “It is a year to-day that I came - here—the first time.” - </p> - <p> - “Alone—?” The word breathed itself—and stopped, and Eldridge - put out a hand. “Don’t tell me! I did not ask it.” - </p> - <p> - “Don’t you know?” She was looking at him. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I know. I do not understand—but I know.” - </p> - <p> - She smiled and sat silent.... “I was frightened to come!” It seemed as if - she were looking at the strangeness of it. “I was afraid—the first - day—” - </p> - <p> - “You should have asked me to come,” he urged. - </p> - <p> - “Would you have come?” - </p> - <p> - “No—not then.” - </p> - <p> - “And I had to come! I could not wait—and there was—no one.... - You would not have come—not even if I had waited.” - </p> - <p> - “No—I should not have come—except to find you.... Tell me, - have you never been afraid of me—of what I would do?” - </p> - <p> - “The first day—yes—I was terribly frightened when you came in - and sat over there,” she moved her hand. “I wanted to scream out—to - go to you and tell you what it meant, and beg you not to be angry.... I - had never done anything without you before. I was like a child! Then you - went out and I hurried home. I tore off the things. I did not mind your - knowing. I only wanted you to understand. I was afraid you might not—understand.” - </p> - <p> - “I didn’t—” - </p> - <p> - “No—I know. But after a while—I knew you were trying to.... - Then I knew that some day we should be here—together.” - </p> - <p> - The little alcove seemed to expand and become a wide place—Eldridge - caught a glimpse of something fine and sincere—it passed like a - breath over her face and was gone. - </p> - <p> - She lifted the face—“I have waited for it,” she said. “I have prayed - for it every day, I think.” Her lips barely moved the words—“I did - not want to feel alone here.” - </p> - <p> - He pushed back the curtain and beckoned to the waiter. “We will drink to - the day,” he said. - </p> - <p> - Eldridge gave his order and looked on, smiling, while the waiter placed - the slender-necked flask on the table and brought out the glasses and - withdrew. - </p> - <p> - They lifted the glasses. “To the day—you left me,” he said. “And to - the day I followed you,” he added slowly. - </p> - <p> - The glass paused in her hand. “That was the Symphony—?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes—And to your anniversary!” - </p> - <p> - She set down the glass. “I have not told you everything. It was not—my - anniversary—made me come—to-day.” - </p> - <p> - “No?” - </p> - <p> - She shook her head. “I came—to meet—you!” she said. - </p> - <p> - He looked at her slowly—“And when did you know that I would come?” - he asked. - </p> - <p> - “Last night—in the moonlight. I was so afraid you would speak there—in - the moon! I did not want the moon to get in,” she said. “I wanted you to - speak in real, plain daylight—and then, of course, you know, it’s - Tom’s gown and not the moon. Everybody has the moon!” she laughed. - </p> - <p> - “This is a very little place, this alcove,” said Eldridge. He was looking - about him at the green walls of the alcove—thinking of the sun and - the fields and of the road up through the hills—— - </p> - <p> - “But it’s where I went berrying with Tom,” she laughed. - </p> - <p> - He smiled at her. “Then it is as big as the world—and the sun and - all the fields of the sun!” he said. - </p> - <p> - Outside the curtain the music tinkled dimly, and there was a lower music - still of all the glasses and words—and there was a silence in the - alcove. - </p> - <p> - “So there has never been any one—any one but me—” he said, “in - your alcove!” He was looking at her hap-pily. - </p> - <p> - “No.” Her lip waited on it—and closed. “There <i>was</i> some one—” - she spoke slowly. “It seems a queer thing to tell. It had no beginning and - no end!” She waited, still looking at it.... “It was a man—an old - man—that used to sit over there to the left, at a table by himself. - I could see him through the curtains. Even when they were almost closed I - could see him. He always sat there, and always alone.... I did not notice - him at first.... I do not think any one would have noticed him—at - first. He was almost ugly—or he seemed ugly.” She was smiling at her - thought.... “And one day suddenly I saw him as he really was, as he was - inside—very gentle and strong and wise—and not wanting to hurt - any one or to let any one suffer—more than they had to. I knew, some - way, if I should go up to him and speak to him, that he would understand - me—and help me. I should have liked to—speak to him. Of course - it is really the same as if I did.”... She seemed thinking of it. “But I - didn’t. I never saw him more than a dozen times, I suppose. But I used to - think about him, and it helped me. I should have trusted him anywhere—and - been willing to go with him—anywhere in the world. I don’t believe - he was very clever—but it rested me to think of him—just as a - big, homely field rests you—and the way the music did that first - night—when we knew each other——-” - </p> - <p> - After a minute she went on. “I have not seen him for a long time. He - stopped coming suddenly....” - </p> - <div style="height: 6em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Woman in the Alcove, by Jennette Lee - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOMAN IN THE ALCOVE *** - -***** This file should be named 51989-h.htm or 51989-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/8/51989/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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- <head>
- <title>
- The Woman in the Alcove, by Jennette Lee
- </title>
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-
-The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Woman in the Alcove, by Jennette Lee
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
-other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
-the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
-
-
-
-Title: The Woman in the Alcove
-
-Author: Jennette Lee
-
-Illustrator: A. I. Keller And Arthur E. Becher
-
-Release Date: May 3, 2016 [EBook #51989]
-Last Updated: February 21, 2018
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOMAN IN THE ALCOVE ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by David Widger from page images generously
-provided by the Internet Archive
-
-
-
-
-
-
-</pre>
-
- <div style="height: 8em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h1>
- THE WOMAN IN THE ALCOVE
- </h1>
- <h2>
- By Jennette Lee
- </h2>
- <h3>
- Illustrated by A. I. Keller and Arthur E. Becher
- </h3>
- <h4>
- Charles Scribner’s Sons, New York
- </h4>
- <h3>
- 1914
- </h3>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0008.jpg" alt="0008 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0008.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0009.jpg" alt="0009 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0009.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <h3>
- TO
- </h3>
- <h3>
- GERALD STANLEY LEE
- </h3>
- <h3>
- I
- </h3>
- <p class="indent15">
- “Room after room,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- I hunt the house through
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- We inhabit together.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Heart, fear nothing, for, heart, thou shalt find her—
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Next time, herself!—not the trouble behind her
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Left in the curtain, the couch’s perfume!
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- As she brushed it, the cornice-wreath blossomed anew;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Yon looking-glass gleamed at the wave of her feather.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <h3>
- II
- </h3>
- <p class="indent15">
- “Yet the day wears
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And door succeeds door;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- I try the fresh fortune—
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Range the wide house from the wing to the centre.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Still the same chance! She goes out as I enter.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Spend my whole day in the quest,—who cares?
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- But ’tis twilight, you see—with such suites to explore,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Such closets to search, such alcoves to importune.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p>
- <b>CONTENTS</b>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> I </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> II </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> III </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> IV </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> V </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> VI </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> VII </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VIII </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> IX </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> X </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> XI </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> XII </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XIII </a>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- I
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">E</span>LDRIDGE WALCOTT
- paused in front of the great building; he looked up and hesitated and went
- in. He crossed the marble lobby and passed through the silent, swinging
- doors on the opposite side and stepped into a softly lighted café. He had
- never been in Merwin’s before, though he had often heard of it, and he was
- curious as to what it would be like. There was a sound of music somewhere
- and low voices and the tinkle of silver and glass behind the little green
- curtains. He entered an alcove at the left and sat down. The restfulness
- of the place soothed him, and he sat listening to the distant music and
- looking out between the parted curtains of the alcove to the room with its
- little tables filling the space beyond the green-curtained alcoves on
- either side and the people seated at the tables. They were laughing and
- eating and talking and drinking from delicate cups or turning
- slender-stemmed glasses in their fingers as they talked. Beyond the tables
- rose a small platform; a woman had just mounted it and was bowing to the
- scattered tables. The sound of voices ceased an instant and hands clapped
- faintly here and there. The woman on the platform bowed again and looked
- at the accompanist, who struck the opening bars. It was a light, trivial
- song with more personality than art in the singing of it, and the audience
- applauded perfunctorily, hardly breaking off its talk to acknowledge that
- it was done. The woman stepped down from the platform and joined a group
- at a table near by, and waiters moved among the tables, refilling cups and
- glasses and taking orders.
- </p>
- <p>
- A waiter paused by the alcove where Eldridge Walcott was sitting and
- pushed back the little curtain and looked in and waited. Eldridge took up
- the card on the table before him; he fingered it a little awkwardly and
- laid it down: “Bring me cigars,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- The waiter scribbled on a card and passed on. When he had completed the
- alcoves on the left he turned and went back along the right, pausing
- before each one and bending forward to listen and take the order on his
- card. As he approached the third alcove he pushed back the curtain that
- half concealed it at the back and bent forward. When he passed on the
- curtain did not fall into place; it remained caught on the back of the
- seat. From where Eldridge sat he could see the woman seated in the alcove.
- She was alone, her back to him, her head a little bent as if in thought.
- </p>
- <p>
- He glanced at her carelessly and along the row of green curtains to the
- tables beyond. It was all much as he had imagined it—a place where
- one could spend time and money without too much exertion. It was the money
- part of it that interested Eldridge. His client had asked him to look into
- it for him as an investment, and he had decided on this informal way of
- appraising it. To-morrow he was to go over the books and accounts. The
- owners wanted a stiff price for the goodwill. It was probably worth what
- they were asking he decided as he watched the careless, happy crowd.
- People who came here were not thinking how much they could save.... It was
- not the sort of place he should care to come to often himself. Life to
- Eldridge was a serious, drab affair compared with Merwin’s. He liked to
- think how much he could save; and when he had saved it he liked to invest
- it where it would breed more.... He might take a few shares of the capital
- stock himself—his client had suggested it.
- </p>
- <p>
- The waiter brought the cigars and Eldridge lighted one and leaned back,
- smoking and enjoying the relaxed air of the place. He could understand
- dimly how people liked this sort of thing and would come day after day for
- music and talk and the purposelessness of it all; it was a kind of huge,
- informal club with a self-elected membership.
- </p>
- <p>
- As a prospective investor the charm of it pleased him. They ought to be
- able to make a good thing of it. He fell to making little calculations; it
- was part of his power as a successful man of business that he understood
- detail and the value of small things.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was not a financier, but he handled small interests well and he had
- built up a comfortable fortune. From being in debt before he married, he
- had advanced slowly until now his investments made a good showing. He
- could probably live on the income to-morrow if he chose.... He blew a
- little ring of smoke.... His investments and what they were mounting to
- was a kind of epic poem to Eldridge’s slow-moving mind.... Yes—he
- would take a few shares of the café stock. He looked thoughtfully at his
- cigar and calculated how many, and what they would be worth.... The music
- had taken the form of a young boy with a violin who stood absorbed in his
- playing, a kind of quick fervor in his face and figure. The voices had
- ceased and only now and then a cup clicked.
- </p>
- <p>
- Eldridge lifted his eyes from the cigar. The woman in the alcove had moved
- nearer the end of the seat and was watching the boy, her lips parted on a
- half smile.
- </p>
- <p>
- The cigar dropped from Eldridge’s fingers. He stared at the woman—stared—and
- stirred vaguely.
- </p>
- <p>
- She turned a little and Eldridge reached out his hand and drew a quick
- curtain between them.
- </p>
- <p>
- Through the slit he could still see the figure of the woman, her head
- thrown a little back, her eyes following the bow of music as it rose and
- fell, and the lips smiling in happy content—He drew a quick breath.
- </p>
- <p>
- Slowly a deep flush came into his face—How dared Rosalind come here!
- It was a respectable place—of course—but how dared she spend
- her time and money—his money and time that belonged to her home and
- her children—in a place like this?... Her hands were folded in her
- lap, and her eyes followed the music.
- </p>
- <p>
- She had barely touched the glass on the table before her, he noted, or the
- plate of little biscuit. She seemed to sit in a dream.... His mind
- whirled. Six hours before he had said good-by to her at the breakfast
- table—a plain, drab woman in shabby clothes, with steel-rimmed
- spectacles that looked at him with a little line between the eyes and
- reminded him that he needed to order coal for the range and a new
- clothes-line.... He had ordered the coal, but he recalled suddenly that he
- had forgotten the clothes-line; he had intended to see if he could get one
- cheaper at a wholesale place he knew of; his memory held the clothes-line
- fast in the left lobe of his brain while the grey matter of the right lobe
- whirled excitedly about the woman in the alcove.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0025.jpg" alt="0025 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0025.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- She had raised a lorgnette to her eyes and was looking at the boy
- violinist, a little, happy, wistful smile on her lips.... Eldridge had not
- seen her smile like that for years. His left lobe abandoned the
- clothes-line and recalled to him when it was he saw the little smile, half
- wistful, half happy, on her face.... They were standing by the gate, and
- he was saying good night; the moon had just come up, and there was a
- fragrant bush beside the path that gave out the smell of spring; the left
- lobe yielded up fragrance and moonlight and the little wistful smile while
- his quick eye followed the lorgnette; it had dropped to her lap, and her
- hands were folded on it.... Rosalind—! A gold lorgnette—and
- draperies, soft, gauzy lines and folds of silk—and a hat on her
- shining, lifted hair, like a vague coronet! Eldridge Walcott held his
- cigar grimly between his teeth; the cigar had gone out—both lobes
- had ceased to whirl.... A kind of frozen light held his face. His hand
- groped for his hat. Why should he not step across the aisle and sit down
- in the chair opposite her and confront her?—the green curtains would
- shut them in.... Both lobes stared at the thought and held it tight—to
- face Rosalind, a grey, frightened woman in her finery, behind the little
- green curtains! He shook himself loose and stood up. Softly his hand drew
- back the curtain, and he stepped out. They were clapping the boy
- violinist, who had played to the end, and Eldridge moved toward the
- swinging doors and passed out and stood in the lobby. He wiped his
- forehead.... A sound of moving chairs came from behind the doors, and he
- crossed the lobby quickly and plunged into the crowd. It was five o’clock,
- and the streets were filled with people hurrying home. Eldridge turned
- against the tide and crossed a side street and pressed east, his feet
- seeming to find a way of their own. He was not thinking where he would go—except
- that it must be away from her. He could not face her yet—Who <i>was</i>
- she? There was the drab woman of the morning, waiting for him to come home
- with the clothesline, and there was the woman of the alcove, splendid,
- gentle, with the little smile and the gold lorgnette.... Rosalind—Fifteen
- years he had lived with her, and he had known her ten years before that—there
- was nothing <i>queer</i> about Rosalind! He lifted his head a little
- proudly—The woman he had just left was very beautiful! It struck him
- for the first time that she was beautiful, and he half stopped.
- </p>
- <p>
- He walked more slowly, taking it in—Rosalind was not beautiful; she
- had not been beautiful—even as a girl—only pretty, with a kind
- of freshness and freedom about her and something in her eyes that he had
- not understood—It was the look that had drawn him—He was
- always wondering about it. Sometimes he saw it in the night—as if it
- flitted when he woke. He had not thought of it for years. Something in the
- woman’s shoulder and the line of her head was like it. But the woman was
- very <i>beautiful!</i>—Suppose it were not Rosalind after all! He
- gave a quick breath, and his feet halted and went on. Then a thought
- surged at him, and he walked fast—he almost ran. No—No—!
- It was as if he put his hands over his ears to shut it out. Other women—but
- not <i>his</i> wife! She had children—<i>three</i> children! He
- tried to think of the children to steady himself. He pictured her putting
- them to bed at night, bending above Tommie and winding a flannel bandage
- tight around his throat for croup; he could see her quite plainly, the
- quick, efficient fingers and firm, roughened hands drawing the bed-clothes
- in place and tucking them in.... The woman’s hands had rested so quietly
- in her lap! Were they rough?—She had worn gloves—he remembered
- now—soft gloves, like the color in her gown.... He stared at the
- gloves—they were long—they came to the elbow—yes, there
- was a kind of soft, lacy stuff that fell away from them—yes, they
- were long gloves.... They must have cost——
- </p>
- <p>
- He tried to think what the gloves must have cost, but he had nothing to go
- by. Rosalind had never worn such gloves, nor his mother or sisters. Only
- women who were very rich wore gloves like that—or women——
- </p>
- <p>
- He faced the thought at last. He had come out where the salt air struck
- him; the town and its lights had fallen behind; there was the marsh to
- cross, and he was on a long beach, the wind in his face, the water rolling
- up in spray and sweeping slowly back—He strode forward, his head to
- the wind.... There was no one that she knew—no man.... How should
- she know any one that he did not know!
- </p>
- <p>
- She was never away.... But was he—sure! How did he know what went on—all
- day... half past seven till seven at night? In the evenings she mended the
- children’s clothes and he looked over the paper. Sometimes they talked
- about things and planned how they could get along. Rosalind was a good
- manager. He saw her sitting beside the lamp, in her cheap dress, her head
- bent over the figures, working it out with him—and he saw the woman
- in the alcove—the clothes she wore—he drew back before it—more
- than the whole family spent in a year!... The gloves alone might have
- bought her Sunday suit—Sunday was, after all, the only day he knew
- where she was—in church with him and, in the afternoon, lying down
- in her room while he took the children for a walk.... He was a good father—he
- set his teeth to it defiantly, against the wind. She could not accuse <i>him</i>
- of neglect.... Suddenly a hurt feeling stirred somewhere deep down—He
- did not look at it; he did not know it was there. But the first shock had
- passed. He was not bewildered any more. He could think steadily, putting
- point to point, building up the “case”.... Then, suddenly, he would see
- her in the great spectacles, reminding him of the clothes-line—and
- his “case” collapsed like a foolish little card house.... Not Rosalind—other
- women, perhaps—but not Rosalind.... He turned slowly back, the wind
- behind him urging him on. He would go home—to her. Perhaps when he
- saw her he should know what to think.... But perhaps she had not yet come
- home. If he hurried he might get there before her and face her as she came
- in. He hurried fast, he almost ran, and when he reached the streets he
- signalled a cab; he had not used a cab for years; it would cost a dollar,
- at least—He looked out at the half-deserted street—the crowd
- had thinned. He held his watch where the light of the street arc flashed
- across it—six-thirty. Half an hour before his usual time. He paid
- the fare and went quickly up the steps.... The children were talking in
- the dining-room. There was no other sound. He opened the door and looked
- in. She was standing by the table looking at Tommie’s coat—There was
- a rent in the shoulder and the face bent above it had a look of quiet
- patience—The grey-drab hair was parted exactly in the middle and
- combed smoothly down; the eyes behind the spectacles looked up—with
- the little line between them. When she saw who it was she glanced for a
- moment at the clock and then back at him—“Did you bring the
- clothesline?” she asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- He stared at her a moment—at her plain, cheap dress and homely face.
- Then he turned away. “I—forgot,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- II
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HEN supper was
- done and the children in bed she moved about the room for a few minutes
- putting things to rights. Eldridge, sitting by the table, held his
- newspaper in his hand and now and then he rustled it and turned it over;
- his eyes did not leave the little black printed marks, but his real eyes
- were not following the marks; they were watching the woman; they tried to
- dart upon her in her plainness and make her speak. There was something
- monstrous to him—that they should be here together, in this room—he
- could have touched her with his hand as she moved past him—yet they
- were a thousand miles apart. He cleared his throat; he would force her,
- accuse her, make her reveal what was going on behind the earnest-looking
- glasses.... He turned the paper and began another page.... If he were
- another man he might spring at her—take her by the throat—force
- her back—back against the wall—and <i>make</i> her speak! She
- had finished tidying the room and came over to the table, the torn coat in
- her hand; she was looking down at the frayed threads in the rent, the
- little line between her eyes; he did not look up or move; he could hear
- her breathing—then she gave a little sigh and laid the coat on the
- table.... She was leaving the room. His eyes leaped after her and came
- back.
- </p>
- <p>
- When she returned she spread the roll of pieces on the table and selected
- one, slipping it in beneath the rent; he could see—without taking
- his eyes from the page—he could see the anxious, faintly red
- knuckles and her fingers fitting the piece in place with deft, roughened
- tips. She had a kind of special skill at mending, making old things new.
- When they were first married it had been one of their little jokes—how
- lucky she was to have married a poor man. He had kissed her fingers one
- day—he recalled it—when she had shown him the little skilful
- darn in his coat; he had called it a kind of poem and he had kissed her.
- It seemed almost shameless to him, behind his paper—the foolishness
- was shameless—of kissing her for that....
- </p>
- <p>
- She was sewing swiftly now with the short, still movements that came and
- went like breaths; her head was bent over the coat and he could see the
- parting of her hair; he dropped his eye to it for a minute and rustled the
- paper and turned it vaguely. “I was in at Merwin’s this afternoon,” he
- said.
- </p>
- <p>
- The needle paused a dart—and went on rhythmically, in and out. “Did
- you like it?” she asked. She had not lifted her head from her work.
- </p>
- <p>
- He turned a casual page and read on—“Oh, so-so.” It was the sort of
- absent-minded talk they often had—a kind of thinking out loud
- without interest in one another.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is a popular place, isn’t it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- She was smoothing the edges of the patch thoughtfully; there was a little
- smile on her lip.
- </p>
- <p>
- He folded his paper. “I’m going to bed,” he announced.
- </p>
- <p>
- She glanced quickly at the clock and resumed her work. “I must finish
- this. He hasn’t any other to wear.” The needle went in and out.
- </p>
- <p>
- Eldridge rose and stretched himself above her. He looked down at her—at
- the swift-moving hands and grey closeness of her dress. He would like to
- take her in his hands and crush out of her the thoughts—make her
- speak out the thoughts that followed the swift-going needle; he did not
- know that he wanted this—he was only feeling over and over, in some
- deep, angry place—“What the devil was she doing there? What the——”
- </p>
- <p>
- He moved about the room a minute and ’went out. The woman by the table
- sewed on. A bolt shot in the front hall and Eldridge’s feet mounted the
- stairs slowly. Then the room was quiet—only the clock and the
- needle.
- </p>
- <p>
- Presently the needle stopped—the woman’s hands lay folded in her
- lap. The figure was motionless, the head bent—only across her face
- moved the little smile.... The clock travelled round and whirred its
- warning note and struck, and she only stirred a little, as if a breath
- escaped her, and took up her work, looking at it blindly.
- </p>
- <p>
- A sound came in the hall and she looked up.
- </p>
- <p>
- He stood in the doorway, his old dressing-gown wrapped around him, his
- hands gaunt, with the little hairs at the wrist uncovered by cuffs.
- </p>
- <p>
- She looked at him, smiling absently. There was something almost beautiful
- in her face as she lifted it to him—“When are you coming to bed?” he
- asked harshly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, right now, Eldridge—I must have been dreaming.” She gathered
- up the work from her lap. “I hope I haven’t kept you awake.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He stood looking at her a minute. Then he wheeled about without response.
- His feet beneath the bath gown moved awkwardly. But the spine in the bath
- gown had a cold, dignified, offended look—a kind of grotesque
- stateliness—as it disappeared through the doorway.
- </p>
- <p>
- The woman looked after it, the little, gathering smile still on her face.
- Then she turned toward the lamp and put it out, and the radiant smile
- close to the lamp became a part of the dark.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- III
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>Y morning it had
- become a dream.
- </p>
- <p>
- Eldridge was late and he hurried from the house and hurried all the
- morning to catch up. By luncheon time he was in another world. He took
- plenty of time for his luncheon; it was one of the things he had learned—to
- eat his luncheon slowly and take time to digest it. Sometimes he read the
- paper, sometimes he dropped into a moving-picture show for a few minutes
- afterward. But to-day he did neither. He sat in the restaurant—it
- was a crowded restaurant, all America coming and going—and he
- watched it idly. He had a rested, comfortable feeling, as if he had
- escaped some calamity. It seemed foolish now, as he looked back—a
- kind of fever in the blood that had twisted the commonest things into
- queer shape. He looked back over it dispassionately—it was the woman
- in Merwin’s who had started it, of course; there <i>was</i> something
- about her—something like Rosalind—curiously like her—it
- was like what Rosalind <i>might</i> have been, more than what she was—a
- kind of spirited-up Rosalind! He smiled grimly.
- </p>
- <p>
- He called for his check; and while he waited he saw her again, the figure
- of the woman—not in the restaurant—but in a kind of vision—in
- the alcove behind the curtain, her head a little bent, her hands folded
- quietly in her lap... who <i>was</i> she—? His heart gave a sudden
- twist and stopped—He had never felt like this about—any one—had
- he? He looked down at a red check, with its stamped black figures, and
- fumbled in his pocket—and brought out a coin and laid it beside the
- check and stared at it.... The check and the coin slipped away and he
- stared at the marble top. Suppose he saw her—again... some time....
- Two coins reappeared on the table and he picked them up. Then he put back
- one and felt for his hat and went out.... The traffic shrieked at him and
- people jostled him with their elbows and hurried him, and he jostled back
- and woke up and shook off the queerness and went about his work.... He was
- forty-one years old and his property was all well invested. It had never
- occurred to him that he could be different from himself.... He read in the
- paper of people who did things—did things different from themselves,
- suddenly—people who squandered fortunes in a day, or murdered and
- ran away from business—and their wives—people who committed
- suicide. Vicariously, he knew all about how queer men could be... and his
- chief experience with it all, with this world that his newspaper rolled
- before him every day, was a kind of wonder that people would do such
- things and a knowledge, deeper than faith or conviction, that Eldridge
- Walcott would never do any of them. He explained such men—if he
- explained them at all—by saying that they must have a screw loose
- somewhere. Perhaps he thought of men, vaguely, as put together with works
- inside, carefully adjusted and screwed in place, warranted, with good
- usage, to run so long; certainly it had not occurred to him that a man
- could change much after he was forty years old.
- </p>
- <p>
- He went back to business refreshed, more refreshed than his luncheon often
- left him. He thought of Rosalind, now and then, with a kind of
- thankfulness—Rosalind waiting for him at night with the children,
- life moving on in the same comfortable way. He had even a moment’s flash
- of thankfulness to the unknown woman that she had made him see how
- comfortable he was, how much he had to be thankful for in his quiet life.
- It was a profitable afternoon—the best stroke of business in six
- months; and he flattered himself that he handled it well. He felt
- unusually alive, alert. On the way home he passed a florist’s and half
- stopped, looking down at a beautiful plant that flamed on a bench outside
- the door; he did not know what it was; they were all “plants” to him,
- except roses—he knew a rose—this was not a rose; he looked at
- it a moment and hurried on.... She would think it strange if he brought
- her anything like a plant.
- </p>
- <p>
- The idea grew with him the next day and the next. Why should he not give
- her something? She deserved it. There seemed always some good reason why
- her clothes were the last to be bought and the plainest and shabbiest—and
- a woman’s clothes could always be made over.... Suppose she had a new suit—something
- that was really good—Suppose he got it for her—would she be in
- the least like that—other—one—? He had long ago
- abandoned the idea that there was a real resemblance between them. He knew
- now that he must have been overwrought, excited in some mysterious way—the
- woman herself seemed to have excited him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The wrong that he had done Rosalind—even in his thought—made
- him tender of her. He did not buy a crimson flower to take home to her.
- But a week later he called one day at his bank and in the evening he
- handed her a little, twisted roll of something.
- </p>
- <p>
- She had finished her work and was sitting for a minute before she brought
- her sewing basket. He laid the roll in the curve of her fingers in her
- lap.
- </p>
- <p>
- When she glanced down at it she took it up in short-sighted surprise and
- looked at the new, crisp bills—and then at him—
- </p>
- <p>
- He nodded. “For you,” he said. “It’s a new suit—you need it.” He
- balanced a little on his toes, looking down at her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her face flushed red; it grew from neck to chin and flooded up to him.
- “What do you mean?” she said under her breath.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I want you to get a good one—good stuff, good dressmaker—It’s
- enough, isn’t it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is more—than enough—” The red had flooded her face again—as
- if she would cry. But she said nothing for a minute. She was looking down
- at the bills.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then she looked up. The plain face had a smile like light from somewhere
- far away. “May I get just what I like—?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He nodded proudly. She was almost beautiful... perhaps—in the new
- gown—He pulled himself together.... She had looked down again and
- was fingering the bills happily.... “There is a little muff and fur—”
- she said.
- </p>
- <p>
- He nodded, encouraging—“A muff and fur and a little fur cap that I
- wanted—so much—for Mary—and overcoats for the boys—they’re
- so shabby—and your hat is really not fit, you know—” She was
- looking up now and smiling and checking them off—He stopped her with
- a gesture.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are to spend it on yourself,” he said almost harshly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “On myself—! Why do you say that?” She almost confronted him—as
- if she caught her breath—“You never have things and you always get
- out of spending things on yourself.” He half muttered the words.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh—oh—! I shall get something for myself. You will see!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He held out his hand. He was a good man of business. No one got far ahead
- of him.—“When you have bought the dress I will pay for it,” he said.
- “Give them to me. I cannot trust you with them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She looked at him—and at the bills—and they dropped from her
- hand into his slowly and her arms fell; her shoulders rose and trembled
- and the hands covered her face. She was weeping, deep, silent sobs—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0057.jpg" alt="0057 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0057.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- He bent over her—ashamed. “You must not do that,” he said. “You
- needn’t feel bad. I wanted you to have it—”
- </p>
- <p>
- She took down her hands and looked at him. “It seemed so good to have—enough—more
- than enough! to be extravagant!” She threw out her hands with a little
- wasteful gesture.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was looking at her closely. A suspicion leaped at him. Her face was so
- free and the tears had made it mysterious and sweet—she was as
- wonderful as that other—she was—She was—He stopped with
- a quick jerk. “I want you to be extravagant on <i>yourself!</i>” he said.
- He was watching her face.
- </p>
- <p>
- It flamed again but it did not drop before him. Only the eyes sent back a
- look—on guard, it seemed to him. “I do not need so much for myself,”
- she said quietly, “part of it will be quite enough.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He put the bills in his pocket. “All or nothing,” he said easily.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p>
- All the next day he turned it in his mind—the look in her eyes, the
- beauty—something deep within her, shining out.... He no longer went
- peacefully about his work. <i>Could</i> it have been Rosalind, after
- all?... He had never seen her look like that—he had not dreamed....
- But when he came home at night the look was not there; he fancied that she
- was more worn and a little troubled. Certainly, no one could think of her
- as beautiful... and why should a man want to think his wife beautiful?...
- It was the woman in the alcove that had done the mischief. He should never
- get over the woman in the alcove. She had got into his life whether or
- not. He could not be comfortable about Rosalind. There was something about
- her that he had not known or suspected before. He fell to watching her
- when she was not aware. He had thought he knew her so well and now she was
- a stranger.... But perhaps it was himself—the woman had done
- something to him. Rosalind was the same—but was she? He looked at
- her a long time one night as she lay asleep. The moonlight had come in and
- was on her face. He watched it—as if a breath might speak to him—it
- was not Rosalind’s face. Some stranger was there, out of a strange land; a
- great yearning came to him to waken her, to ask her whence she came, what
- it was that she knew—what made her face so peaceful in the moonlight—calling
- to him? He got up softly and closed the blind. He remembered he had heard
- that it was not good for people to sleep with the moon shining on them—it
- was only superstition, of course. But superstition had suddenly changed
- its bounds for him.... Were there things, perhaps, that people knew, that
- they guessed—true things that they could not explain and did not
- talk about?...
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- IV
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>E could not bring
- himself to speak to Rosalind about the woman in the alcove. He wanted to
- speak—to do away, once for all, with the strangeness and the spell
- she seemed to have cast about him, to speak of her casually as that woman
- I saw the other day at Merwin’s; but he could not do it. It was as if he
- were afraid—or bashful. He had not felt like this since—not
- since he was in love—with Rosalind! He looked at the thought and
- turned it over slowly. He was not in love with the woman—certainly
- he was not in love with her! He would not know her again if he met her on
- the street.... Would he not! Suddenly he felt that he had known her always—longer
- than he had known Rosalind—longer than he had been alive! He found
- himself wondering about the world—how it was the world got into
- existence—what were men doing in it—and women—and his
- mind travelled out into space—great stars swung away mistily—what
- did it mean—all his world and stars?... Perhaps if he saw her again,
- just a few minutes, he would feel like himself again.... It was worth
- trying—and how he wanted—to—see her! Well, what of that?
- There was nothing wrong in being curious about a woman like that. If she
- <i>had</i> some uncanny power over him he might as well find it out—fight
- it!
- </p>
- <p>
- He was respectable—he was a married man.... And what had Rosalind to
- do with it? Perhaps it <i>was</i> Rosalind. He should never quiet down
- till he knew. There was something in his blood. The next time he was
- passing Merwin’s he would go in....
- </p>
- <p>
- He passed Merwin’s that afternoon—and went in. But she was not
- there. He sat a little while in the quiet of the place, looking across to
- the alcove where the woman had been. There was no one in it and the
- curtains were drawn back. Each time a stir came from the swinging doors or
- a dress rustled beside him he half turned and held his breath till it
- passed and took its place at one of the little tables or in an alcove. But
- the third alcove on the right remained empty. No quiet figure moved with
- soft grace and seated itself there... no one but Eldridge saw the figure—the
- gentle, bending line of the neck, the little droop of the face.... If only
- she would lift it or turn to him a minute.... And then the still, clear
- emptiness of the place swept between; the green curtains framed it, as if
- it were a picture, a little antechamber leading somewhere....
- </p>
- <p>
- Eldridge shook himself and took his hat and went out. The doors swung
- silently behind him—he would never go in there again! He was a fool—a
- soft fool! Then he almost stopped in the crowd of the street.... And he
- knew suddenly that he would go back. He would go—again and again—he
- could not help himself. But he was <i>not</i> in love—he had been in
- love—with Rosalind—and it was not like this.... A policeman
- thrust out an arm and stopped him, and he waited for the traffic to stream
- past.... He was not in love—only curious about the woman; it teased
- him not to know who she was... and why he had been so sure that she was
- Rosalind. If he could see her again—just a minute—long enough
- to make sure, he would not care if he never saw her again. He was loyal,
- of course, to Rosalind, more loyal than he had ever been. It seemed
- curious how the woman had made him see Rosalind—all the plainness of
- her filled with something strange and sweet—like moonlight or a
- quiet place.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- V
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE next day he
- went again to Merwin’s. No use for him to say he would keep away. He knew,
- all through the drudging accounts in the morning, that he would go; and
- while he talked with clients and arranged sales and managed a real-estate
- deal—back in the corner of his mind, behind its green curtains, the
- little alcove waited.
- </p>
- <p>
- He passed through the swinging doors and glanced quickly, and the hand
- holding his hat gripped it tight. The curtains of the third alcove to the
- right were half closed, but along the floor lay a fold of grey dress and
- over the end of the seat, thrown carelessly back, hung the edge of a
- fur-lined wrap.
- </p>
- <p>
- Eldridge turned blindly toward his place. Some one was there. He had to
- take the alcove behind, and he could not see her from the alcove behind—not
- even if she should push back the curtain that shut her away—But he
- found himself, strangely, not caring to see her.... She was there, a
- little way off; it was she—no need to part the curtains and look in
- on her. He felt her presence through all the place. He was no longer
- guilty.... He was hardly curious to know her. He took up the card from the
- table before him and studied it blindly.... His heart seemed to lie out
- before him—a clear, white place.... Men and women were not so evil
- as he had dreamed. He was doing something that a week ago he would have
- condemned any one for; yet his heart, as he looked into it, was singularly
- clear and big—and the light shining in it puzzled him—like a
- charm—It was a place that he had never seen; he had dreamed of it,
- perhaps, as a child. He ordered something, at random, from the card and
- moved nearer the aisle.... No, he could not see her—only the fold of
- her dress and the bit of grey fur. He was glad she was warmly dressed. The
- weather was keener to-day. He must get Rosalind a wrap—something
- warm like that and lined with fur—soft and grey and deep. Everything
- the woman had he would like Rosalind to have—perhaps it might atone—a
- little—for the light in his heart. He had not felt like this for
- Rosalind.... But how should they have known. They were only a boy and girl—and
- some moonlight.... And all the time this other woman was waiting—somewhere....
- No one had told him. If some one had said to him: “Wait, she is coming—you
- must wait!” But no one knew, no one had told him.... Did <i>she</i> know,
- across there in her place, did she know—had she waited—for
- him? He stirred a little. Some one might be with her now; or she might be
- waiting for some one. But he could not go to her.... And yet—why not—?—He
- had only to cross the aisle—and put back the curtains—and look
- at her.... He shook himself and lifted his glass and drank grimly. He was
- a lawyer; his name was Eldridge Walcott; he lived in a brick house and he
- had children—three children—<i>That</i> was the real world;
- this other thing was—madness.... So this was the way men felt! This
- was it, was it—very clean and whole—as if life were beginning
- for them—they had made mistakes, but they would try again; they saw
- something bigger and better than they had ever known—and they
- reached out to it. Men were not wicked, as he had thought—It was a
- strange world where you had to be wicked to do things—like this!...
- And there might be some one with her now! Under the voices and the music
- he fancied he could hear them talking in low tones; their voices seemed to
- come and go vaguely; half guessed, not constant, but quiet and happy....
- Or was it his own heart that beat to her—the words it could
- speak?... He would not speak to her—but he would not go away.... He
- would wait till she moved back the curtain and stepped out.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then he half remembered something—and looked at his watch—he
- had promised Rosalind to wait for the boys and take them to the dentist’s.
- She had said she could not go this afternoon and he had promised to wait
- at the office; he had not meant to come here.... He slipped back the watch
- and stood up and hesitated—and turned away. He might never see her
- now. Well, he had promised Rosalind. Somehow, the promise to Rosalind must
- be kept—now. The letter of the law must be kept!
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p>
- They were waiting for him in the hall by his office door, sitting at the
- top of the flight of stairs and peering down into the elevator-shaft as
- the elevator shot up and down. He saw them as he stepped out, and smiled
- at them. They were fresh, wholesome boys, and he had a sense, as he fitted
- the key in the lock and they stood waiting behind his bent back, that they
- belonged to him. He had always thought of them as Rosalind’s boys!
- </p>
- <p>
- He threw open the door and they went in, looking about them almost shyly;
- they were not shy boys, but father was a big man—and they looked at
- the place where he worked.... Some time they would be—men and have
- an office....
- </p>
- <p>
- Eldridge Walcott turned back from the desk that he had opened. He had
- taken out a little roll of paper and slipped it into his pocket. Their
- eyes followed him gravely. He looked at them standing—half in their
- world, half in his—and smiled to them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You had to wait a good while, didn’t you?” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- They nodded together. “Most an hour,” said Tommie.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, that’s all right—Something kept me. Come on.”
- </p>
- <p>
- When they reached home that evening he handed the little roll of paper he
- had taken from the desk to Rosalind. “I have doubled it,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There will be enough for everything you want.”
- </p>
- <p>
- For a minute she did not speak. Then she took it. “Thank you,” she said
- slowly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I want you to get a suit, you know—a good one—” He paused. “—And
- you need something warm—a fur-lined wrap or something—don’t
- you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- She wrinkled the little line between her eyes. “It is—so late—the
- winter is half gone already.” Then her face cleared. “I think I’ll—wait
- till spring,” she said.
- </p>
- <p>
- He could almost fancy something danced at him, mocked him behind the still
- face.
- </p>
- <p>
- He turned away, the deep, hurt feeling coming close. “Get what you like,”
- he said. “I want you to have enough.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The money lay in her hand, and her fingers opened on it and closed on it.
- Then she breathed softly, like a sigh, and went to her desk and put it
- away.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- VI
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HROUGH the weeks
- that followed Eldridge watched the things money could buy quietly taking
- their place in the house. Little comforts that he had not missed—had
- not known any one could miss—were at hand. The children looked
- somehow subtly different. He had a sense of expansion, softly breaking
- threads of habit, expectancy. Only Rosalind seemed unchanged. Yet each
- time he looked at her he fancied that she <i>had</i> changed—more
- than all of them. He could not keep his eyes from her. Something was
- hidden in her—Something he did not know—that he would never
- know. Perhaps he should die and not know it.... Did the dead know things—everything?
- He seemed to remember hazily from Sunday-school—something—If
- he were dead, he might come close to her—as close as the little
- thoughts behind her eyes——
- </p>
- <p>
- The cold grew keener, and Eldridge, shivering home from the office,
- remembered a pair of fur gloves in the attic. He had not worn them for
- years. But after supper he took a light and went to look for them.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was cold there, in the attic, and he shivered a little, looking about
- the dusty place. There were boxes stacked along under the eaves and
- garments hanging grotesquely from the beams. He knew where Rosalind kept
- the gloves; he had seen them one day last summer when he was looking for
- window netting. It had not seemed to him then, in the hot attic, that any
- one could ever need gloves. He set down the lamp on a box and drew out a
- trunk and looked in it; they were not there. She must have changed the
- place of things—he would have to go down and ask her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then his eye sought out a box pushed far back under the eaves—he did
- not remember that he had ever seen that box; he glanced at it—and
- half turned away to pick up the lamp—and turned back. He could not
- have told why he felt that he must open it. He had set the light on a box
- a little above him, and it glimmered down on the box that he drew out and
- opened—and on a smooth piece of tissue-paper under the cover——A
- faint perfume came from beneath the paper, and he lifted it. There was a
- pair of long grey gloves—with the shape of a woman’s hand still
- softly held in the finger-tips.... He lifted them and stared and moistened
- his lips and ran his hand down inside the box to the bottom—soft,
- filmy stuff that yielded and sprang back.... He kneeled before it, half on
- his heels, peering down. He bent forward and lifted the things out—white
- things with threaded ribbon and lace—things such as Eldridge Walcott
- had never seen—delicate, web-like things—then a fur-lined coat
- and a grey dress and, at the bottom, a little linked something. He lifted
- it and peered at it and at the coins shining through the meshes and
- dropped it back.
- </p>
- <p>
- He stood up and looked about him vaguely... after a minute he shivered a
- little. It was very cold in the attic. He knelt down and tried to put the
- things back; but his fingers shook, and the things took queer shapes and
- fell apart, and a soft perfume came from them that confused him. He tried
- to steady himself—he began at the bottom, putting each thing
- carefully in place... smoothing it down.
- </p>
- <p>
- The door below creaked. A voice listened.... “You up there, Eldridge?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He straightened himself... out of a thousand thoughts and questions.
- “Where are my fur gloves?” he said quietly. He took the light from its box
- and came over to the stairs.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her face, lifted to him, was in the light and he could see the rays of
- light falling on it—and on the stillness, like a pool....
- </p>
- <p>
- “They’re in the black trunk,” said Rosalind. Her foot moved to the stair—“I’ll
- get them for you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No—Don’t come up,” he said. “It’s cold here. I know—I was
- just looking there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- So she went back, closing the door behind her to keep out the cold.
- </p>
- <p>
- When Eldridge came down he did not look at her. He blew out the light and
- put the gloves with his hat in the hall and came over with his paper and
- sat down.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was standing by the fire, bending over a pair of socks that she had
- been washing out. She was hanging them in front of the fire, pulling out
- the toes. Her eyes looked at him inquiringly as her fingers went on
- stretching the little toes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you find them?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.” He opened his paper slowly. She went on fussing at the socks, a
- little, absent smile on her face. “If it keeps on like this I must get
- heavier flannels for them,” she said. The look in her face was very sweet
- as she bent over the small socks.
- </p>
- <p>
- He looked up—and glanced away. “Money enough—have you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes—plenty of money. I will get them to-morrow—if I can
- go in to town—” she said.
- </p>
- <p>
- His mind flashed to the attic above them and to the quiet alcove with the
- little green curtains that shut it off. “Better dress warm if you do go,”
- he said carelessly. “It is pretty cold, you know.” He took up the paper
- and stared at it.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- VII
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>O it was—Rosalind!
- He sat in his office and stared at the blotter on his desk.... It was a
- green blotter——-For years after Eldridge Walcott could not see
- a green blotter without a little, sudden sense of upheaval; he would walk
- into a plain commercial office—suddenly the walls hovered, the
- furniture moved subtly—even the floor grew a little unsteady before
- he could come with a jerk to a green blotter on the roller-top desk—and
- face it squarely. The blotter on his own desk was exchanged for a crimson
- one—the next day. He would have liked to change everything in the
- room. The very furniture seemed to mock him—to question....
- </p>
- <p>
- So it was—Rosalind! Rosalind—was like that—! His heart
- gave a quick beat—like a boy’s—and stood still.... Rosalind
- was like that—for—somebody else.... He stared at the blotter
- and drew a pad absently toward him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The office boy stuck his head in the door and drew it back. He shook it at
- a short, heavy man with a thinnish, black-grey beard who was hovering
- near. “He told me not to disturb him—not for anybody,” the boy said
- importantly.
- </p>
- <p>
- The man took a card from his pocket and wrote on it. “Take him that.” The
- boy glanced at the name and at the thin, blackish beard. There was a large
- wart on the man’s chin where the beard did not grow. The boy’s eyes rested
- on it—and looked away to the card. “I ’ll—ask him—” he
- said.
- </p>
- <p>
- The man nodded. “Take him that first.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The boy went in.
- </p>
- <p>
- The man walked to the window and looked down; the thick flesh at the back
- of his neck overlapped a little on the collar of his well-cut coat and the
- heavy shoulders seemed to shrug themselves under the smooth fit.
- </p>
- <p>
- The boy’s eyes surveyed the back respectfully. “You’re to come in,” he
- says.
- </p>
- <p>
- The man turned and went in and Eldridge Walcott looked up. “I’m sorry to
- have kept you waiting.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s all right.” The man sat down a little heavily—as if he were
- tired. “That’s all right. I waited because I wanted to see you. I want
- some one to do—a piece of work—for me—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t care to have my regular man on it—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have Clarkson, don’t you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes—I have Clarkson.” The man waited. “Clarkson’s all right—for
- business,” he said. “I want a different sort—for this.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He felt in the pocket of his coat and drew out a letter, and then another,
- and held them, looking down at them absently, turning them over in his
- hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s a divorce—” he said. He went on turning the letters in his
- hand but not looking at them. “I’ve waited as long as I could,” he added
- after a minute. “It’s no use—” He laid the letters on the desk. “It
- took a detective—and money—to get ’em. I reckon they’ll do the
- business,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- Eldridge reached out his hand for them. The man’s errand startled him a
- little. He had been going over divorce on the green blotter when the boy
- came in. He opened the letters slowly. A little faint perfume drifted up—and
- between him and the words came a sense of the blackish-grey beard and the
- wart in among it. He had stared at it, fascinated, while the man
- talked.... He could imagine what it might mean to a woman, day after day.
- He focussed his attention on the letter—and read it and took up the
- other and laid it down....
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes—Those are sufficient,” he said almost curtly. He took up his
- pen. “Your middle initial is J?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gordon J.,” said the man.
- </p>
- <p>
- Eldridge traced the name. “And your wife?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The man stared at him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Her full name—” said Eldridge.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Her name is Cordelia Rose—Barstow,” said the man.
- </p>
- <p>
- Eldridge wrote it efficiently. “Do you name any one as co-respondent?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I name—his name is—” The man gulped and his puffy face was
- grim. “John E. Tower is his name,” he said slowly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Eldridge filled in the paper before him and laid a blotter across it.
- “That is sufficient. I will file the application to-morrow. There will be
- no trouble. She will not contest it—?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The man swallowed a little. “No—She wants—to be free—”
- He ended the words defiantly, but with a kind of shame.
- </p>
- <p>
- Eldridge made no reply. He was seeing a quiet figure, with bent head,
- smiling at something—something that shut him out. He looked across
- to the man.
- </p>
- <p>
- The man’s eyes met his. “That’s all you need—is it?” He seemed a
- little disappointed. “No more to it than this?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s all,” said Eldridge.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the man did not get up. “I don’t know how it happened,” he said. “You
- see, I never guessed—not till two weeks—ten days ago or so.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I see—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’d always trusted Cordelia—I hadn’t ever thought as she could do
- anything like that—not <i>my</i> wife!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “One doesn’t usually expect it of one’s—own wife.” Eldridge laughed
- a little, but it was not unkindly, and the man seemed to draw toward him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ve never mentioned it—except to that detective, and I didn’t tell
- him—any more than I had to—He didn’t seem to need much telling—”
- he said dryly. “He seemed to sense just about what had been going on—without
- telling.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes—?” Eldridge was looking thoughtfully into the greyish-black
- beard with the round lump in it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He’s got the facts. It took him just two weeks—to get ’em.” His
- hand motioned toward the letters, but there was something in the face—a
- kind of puffy appeal.
- </p>
- <p>
- Eldridge nodded. “They know what to do,” he said quietly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hadn’t even mistrusted,” said the man. His eyes were looking at
- something that Eldridge could not see—something that seemed to come
- from a faint perfume in the room.... “I can see it plain enough now—looking
- back.... You don’t mind my telling you—a little—about it.”
- Eldridge shook his head. The man seemed a kind of lumbering boy, yet he
- was a shrewd, keen man in business.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It might help—you know—” he said. “I thought you’d ask me,
- probably—I’d kind of planned to tell you, I guess.” He laughed a
- little awkwardly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go ahead,” said Eldridge.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He was <i>my</i> friend, you see. And I brought him home with me and made
- ’em friends.... I can see now, looking back, what a fool I was—about
- it. But I didn’t see it—then. I don’t know now what it was about
- him.... He’s old as I be—and I’ve got the money. I can give her
- everything she wants—more than he can. But I know now that from the
- first day she see him she was curious about him.... I’d brought him home
- to dinner one night—It was just after we were married.... I always
- kind of think of him that night—the way he looked at table—he’s
- tall—You know him—?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Eldridge nodded. He was seeing the tall, distinguished figure—and
- beside it a humped-up one across his desk.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We had red lamp-shades and candles and flowers—Everything shining,
- you know—Cordelia likes ’em that way.... When I try to think how it
- started I see ’em the way they looked that first night. I was proud of ’em
- both. I felt as if Cordelia belonged to me—and as if he did, too—in
- a way—” He looked at Eldridge. “I’d put him on to a good thing in
- business—!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He and Cordelia laughed and talked the whole evening—kind o’ took
- it up—back and forth—the way you’d play ball. I could see
- Cordelia liked him. I was a fool. I’d waited about getting married till I
- had money enough to give a woman—to give her everything—and
- when she’d got it I never see there might be—something else she’d
- want.... I don’t just know what now—” He shook his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Some days, since I’ve got sure of it, I’ve felt as if it <i>couldn’t</i>
- be so—as if she couldn’t have gone on living with me and having that
- other life—I didn’t know about—shut away from me—and I
- loving her....” The little, clear alcove moved before Eldridge and moved
- away. He was making absent marks on the edge of the pad before him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The man sighed. “Well—It isn’t any use! That’s all, I guess—”
- Eldridge looked up. “Had you thought of—winning her back?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The man shook his head. “I couldn’t do it.” He looked at him as if
- wondering whether he would understand. “There’s something about her I
- don’t get at,” he said slowly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Isn’t there something about any woman you don’t get at?” said Eldridge.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s it!” assented the man. “It isn’t just Cordelia. It’s all of them—in
- back of ’em, somehow. I can’t tell you just how it is, but I’ve thought of
- it a lot—I guess there isn’t anything I haven’t thought of—since
- I knew—lying awake nights and thinking. Somehow, I knew, the first
- day it came to me—I knew there wasn’t any use... since the day I
- come on ’em at Merwin’s.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lawyer’s hand, making its little marks, stopped—and went on.
- “They were at Merwin’s—together?” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Everybody goes to Merwin’s,” said the man. “It wasn’t their being there;
- it was the way they looked when I saw ’em.... They were sitting in one of
- them little alcove places, you know—”
- </p>
- <p>
- Eldridge nodded. Yes—he knew.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The curtains were open—wide open,” said the man. “Anybody could ’a’
- looked in. There wasn’t anything wrong about it. But I saw their faces—both
- of ’em—and I knew.... They were just sitting quiet—the way
- people do when they’re alone.... There’s something different about the way
- people sit—when they’re alone—by themselves—I don’t know
- as you’ve ever noticed it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have noticed it,” said Eldridge. “Quiet and happy—” said the man,
- “and not talking—and not needing to talk.” He took up his hat. “Well—you
- know where to find me. I shan’t bother you like this again——”
- He stood up.
- </p>
- <p>
- Eldridge held out a hand. “I am glad you told me. It helps—to
- understand—the case.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The man’s thick face looked at him. “I don’t understand it myself,” he
- said, “but I’ve got to go through with it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- VIII
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">E</span>LDRIDGE went on
- making little marks on the edge of the paper. He no longer stared at the
- blotter; he was seeing things. Gordon Barstow’s recital had shown things
- to him in perspective and his own trouble seemed moved far away from him
- to a kind of clear place. He sat and looked at it—making little
- marks on the paper. Rosalind was not to blame. A woman like Rosalind had
- the right—she could do what she wanted! What had <i>he</i> ever done
- to win her—to keep her? Not even money. He had kept it for himself—and
- built up a comfortable fortune.... He had the fortune—yes. And he
- had lost Rosalind.... He suddenly saw himself in the clear light—he
- was not lovable like old Barstow. The vision grew before him—all his
- saving closeness, his dulness—a lifeless prig!... And then the
- picture of Rosalind, the vision of her in her alcove—“the way people
- sit when they are alone—I don’t know as you ever noticed—?”
- old Barstow had said.
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, then—what was to be done? His shoulders squared a little. No
- man was going to win Rosalind—without a fight! The man who would win
- her should reckon with him.... He had never known Rosalind. Perhaps
- Rosalind had never known him.... What had he given her—to know him
- by? She had had the right to work for him, to sweep his floors and make
- his bed and take care of the children... She should have money now. She
- should become a partner—in all his plans—and suddenly
- El-dridge Walcott saw that money would not win her—money would not
- buy the gracious presence in the alcove; she did not need money.... He
- must give his soul—to win her—Then he took out his soul and
- looked at it—the shrunken, dry, rattling thing—and flicked it
- from him with a finger-nail.
- </p>
- <p>
- The office boy put his head in cautiously.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you want?” said Eldridge harshly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s Mr. Dutton,” said the boy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, show him in.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And while Mr. Dutton talked of real estate, Eldridge’s soul peeped out at
- the man. He wanted to stop the flow of facts and figures and put a
- straight question to him. “How do you get on with your wife, Mr. Dutton?”
- he wanted to say to him. He could see the man’s startled face checked in
- its flow of fact.... It would not do; of course it would not do to ask him
- how he got on with his wife. Probably he got on with her as Eldridge
- Walcott had done—sewing, sweeping, eating, saving—“So I have
- decided,” the man was saying, “to take the entire block—if the title
- is good.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Eldridge Walcott bowed him out and turned back from the door. But he did
- not sit down. He would go to Merwin’s. Perhaps she was there—she had
- said she might come in to town.... But, with his hand on the door, he
- paused——Suppose he found her—What then?—and the
- man with her? What then?—Suppose he found her! There was nothing he
- could do—not yet! He would win her back.... But the man he had to
- reckon with was not the man sitting with her now, perhaps, in the alcove.
- The man he had to reckon with was Eldridge Walcott—the little,
- shrunken, undersized Eldridge Walcott.
- </p>
- <p>
- He saw it—standing with his hand on the door, looking down—and
- he looked at it a long minute.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then he opened the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- The office boy wheeled about from the window-shade that was stuck halfway
- up.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am ready to see anybody that comes, Burton,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “All right,” said the boy. “This old thing gets stuck every other day!” He
- jerked at it.
- </p>
- <p>
- Eldridge came across and looked at the cord and straightened it and went
- back to his room. The little incident strengthened him subtly. He had
- never yet failed in anything he undertook, big or little—he had
- always succeeded in what he undertook—And suddenly he saw that
- Eldridge Walcott had never in his life undertaken anything that was not
- small.... He had done small, safe things. He had straightened
- window-shades all his life—and he had never failed!
- </p>
- <p>
- He had always had a half-veiled contempt for men who ran risks. Find a
- safe thing and hold on to it had been his policy. It had brought him
- through smugly. He had never made a mistake.... The nearest he had ever
- come to a risk was before he asked Rosalind to marry him. There had been
- something about her that he could not fathom, something that drew him—and
- made him afraid—a kind of sweet mystery... that would not let him be
- safe. Then it had seemed so safe afterward; they had lived together
- quietly without a break. The young Rosalind who had taught him to be
- afraid he had forgotten—and now young Rosalind had come back... she
- had come back to him and with deeper mystery.... This was the real
- Rosalind, the other was only a shadowy promise.... The young Rosalind
- would try him for his soul—and he had—no soul!
- </p>
- <p>
- Who was that other man in the alcove with her—the man who had won
- her? Who was it she had found to understand the mystery—to look up
- to her and worship her—as he had worshipped Rosalind, the girl; as
- he had worshipped Rosalind—and let her go!
- </p>
- <p>
- And he had been thinking about divorce! Thinking of the grounds for it and
- how he should get grounds of divorce—as Gordon Barstow had done. He
- glanced at the two letters on his desk and at the little, jotted notes of
- the Barstow case and a smile flitted to them—grounds for divorce
- from Rosalind! He saw her, in her freedom, moving from him.... His teeth
- set a little. She should never leave him! She should stay with him. She
- should stay because he wanted her—and because she wanted him!
- </p>
- <p>
- And through the rest of the day, as clients came and went, he saw
- something new. He saw cases differently. Men were accustomed to come to
- him because he was a “safe” man.... Well, he was not quite safe to-day—But
- he knew underneath, as he worked, that his advice had never been so worth
- while.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- IX
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>E had left the
- office early and had caught a car that was passing the corner as he came
- out. As soon as he entered he knew that Rosalind was in the car, three
- seats ahead. He gave a little start, a quick flash—he did not want
- to catch Rosalind off guard—Then he smiled; it was not Rosalind of
- the alcove—it was the plain, every-day Rosalind, her lap heaped with
- bundles, and bundles on the seat beside her. Rosalind’s flannels, he
- thought, probably.
- </p>
- <p>
- He moved down the aisle and stood beside the seat, lifting his hat and
- looking down at her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, Eldridge!” She looked up with the little peering smile and made a
- place for him among the bundles, trying to gather them up into her lap.
- </p>
- <p>
- But he swept them away. “I’ll take these,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- The little distressed look came between her eyes. Eldridge couldn’t bear
- bundles. “I thought I wouldn’t wait to have them sent,” she apologized.
- “It’s so cold—and they need them—right off.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes—” He looked at her jacket; it was thin, with the shabby lining
- showing at the edge. “Did you get yourself a warm wrap?” he asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was looking out of the window, and the line of her cheek flushed
- swiftly. “No—I—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I want you to do it—at once.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She glanced at him—a little questioning look in her face. “I—have—seen
- something I like—” she said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Get it to-morrow. I will order it for you when I go in.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Her hands made a gesture above the bundles. “Please don’t, Eldridge. I
- would rather—do it—myself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well. But remember to get it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes—I will get it.” She sighed softly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Deceitful Rosalind! If he had not seen for himself the box in the attic
- with its overflowing soft colors and the grey fur, he would not have
- believed the deceit of her face....
- </p>
- <p>
- Not that he was blaming anybody. He was not blaming Rosalind. The picture
- of Mr. Eldridge Walcott remained with him.... He was not likely to forget
- how Mr. Eldridge Walcott had looked to him—in the flash of light.
- </p>
- <p>
- Perhaps he looked like that to Rosalind—to both Rosalinds! He turned
- a little in the seat and glanced down at her—Yes, they were both
- there—the plain little figure in its shabby jacket and the reticent,
- beautiful woman of the alcove.
- </p>
- <p>
- The fingers in cheap gloves were fussing at a parcel. “I got fleece-lined
- shirts for Tommie—his skin is so sensitive—I thought I would
- try fleece-lined ones for him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Damn fleece-lined ones! Would she never talk to him except of undershirts—and
- coal-hods? He took the paper from his pocket and glanced casually at it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Has coal gone up?” she asked. “They said it would go up—if it
- stayed cold.” The anxious, lines were in her face.
- </p>
- <p>
- He put down the paper and leaned toward her. He felt nearer to her, in a
- street car, than in his own home. “Don’t you worry about coal, Rosalind!
- We shall not freeze—nor starve.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She stared a little. “Of course, we shall not freeze, Eldridge!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I mean there is plenty—to be comfortable with. You are not to worry
- and pinch.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A quick look flooded out at him—a look of the Rosalind within. “You
- mean we can <i>afford</i> not to worry?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He saw the prig Eldridge Walcott, walking in serene knowledge of a
- comfortable income while the little lines had gathered in her face. He
- longed to kick the respectable Mr. Eldridge Walcott from behind.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is quite enough money,” he said. “I am doing better than I have—and
- I shall do better yet.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She looked down at the bundles. “I might have got a better quality,” she
- said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take them all back,” said Eldridge. “I’ll take them—”
- </p>
- <p>
- But she shook her head. “No, they need them to-morrow—and these will
- do—” She smiled at them. “It’s really more the feeling that you <i>can</i>
- get better ones, isn’t it? You don’t mind wearing old things—if you
- know you could have better ones—if you wanted to—” She broke
- off vaguely.
- </p>
- <p>
- He saw the box in the attic—all the filmy softness—and he saw
- the ill-fitting, cheap gloves resting in her lap—That was what had
- saved her—the real Rosalind. Some one had seen that her soul should
- be in its own clothes, now and then, and happy and free. You could not
- quite be jealous of a man who had done that for you—who had clothed
- Rosalind’s soul, could you?
- </p>
- <p>
- He could not think of the man who had clothed Rosalind’s soul—who
- had kept alive something that was precious. He could not hate the man. But
- there was no place in his thoughts for him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Suppose, after all, Rosalind belonged to the man who saw her soul and
- clothed it? Suppose Rosalind belonged to him!... Very well—<i>he
- should not have her!</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- He helped her from the car with her bundles, and as he fitted the key in
- the door the wind struck them fiercely; they were almost blown in with the
- force of it as the door opened. They stood in the hall, laughing, safe—the
- wind shut out——There was a quick color in her face, and it
- lifted to him, laughing freshly, like a girl’s.
- </p>
- <p>
- They were together. She had not looked at him like that for years.
- </p>
- <p>
- He pondered on the look as she went about getting supper. He watched her
- come and go and wondered awkwardly whether he might not offer to go out
- and help. He went at last into the kitchen; she was putting coal on the
- fire and he took the hod from her, throwing on the coal.
- </p>
- <p>
- She looked at him, puzzled. “Are you in a hurry for supper, Eldridge?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh—No.” He went back to the living-room, and talked a little with
- the children, amusing them quietly. He had a home sense, a feeling that
- the room was a kind of presence; the wind howling outside could not touch
- them..
- </p>
- <p>
- And when Rosalind came in and they sat at the table and he looked across
- to her shyly, almost like a boy, he wished he knew what would please her
- best. He could not keep his eyes off her hand as it grasped the handle of
- the teapot and poured his tea. It seemed such a mysterious hand with the
- roughened finger pricks—and the little gentle hand inside that did
- no work. He wanted to take the hand, to touch it.... Of course, a man
- would not take his wife’s hand—like that. He could see the startled
- look in Rosalind’s eyes if he should reach out.... There was a long road
- to travel—and he did not know the way.
- </p>
- <p>
- But he could begin softly with clothes—and touch her hand later
- perhaps. She should have beautiful things———He had told
- her to buy the fur-lined coat.
- </p>
- <p>
- He pictured her in it—the coat that <i>his</i> money should buy—he
- saw her wrapped in it, and he sat still thinking of her and of the coat
- his money should buy. Then the door opened and he looked up.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was standing in the door—and about her was a long grey coat
- lined with fur—the coat of the alcove. Her eyes looked at him over
- the soft fur of the collar.
- </p>
- <p>
- He sprang to his feet—then he checked the word on his lip.
- </p>
- <p>
- He must not let her speak. It was the coat of the alcove. She would wear
- it silently. But she would not tell him. She must not be frightened into
- saying something that was not true. He came over to her and touched the
- edge of the fur, as if questioning it, and she smiled and opened it out.
- “Is it warm enough?” she asked proudly.
- </p>
- <p>
- She stood with the garment extended like wings, and he held his breath.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then she drew it together softly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have had it some time,” she said. “I was keeping it to surprise you!”
- </p>
- <p>
- His breath came quick. How much would she tell him? He looked at it
- critically. “Was it a bargain?” he asked..
- </p>
- <p>
- “No—Not a bargain.” And she stroked the edge of the fur. “I saw it
- and liked it—and I got it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s right. That’s the way to buy all your clothes.” He looked at it a
- minute lightly and turned away.
- </p>
- <p>
- She could not have guessed from his gesture that he was disappointed, but
- her eyes followed him. “I hope you won’t think I paid too much—for
- it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What did you pay?” he asked. His back was toward her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I paid—two hundred dollars,” she said. The words came lightly, and
- there was a little pause.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, I don’t think that was too much.” He had turned and was looking at
- her—straight. “I would have paid more than two hundred—to give
- it to you,” he said slowly.
- </p>
- <p>
- She made no reply, but her eyes regarded him gravely over the edge of the
- collar. Wrapped in the coat, she seemed for a moment the woman of the
- alcove.
- </p>
- <p>
- He looked at her blindly.
- </p>
- <p>
- She returned the look a minute—and turned away slowly and went out.
- </p>
- <p>
- Eldridge walked to the table and stood looking down.... He had given her,
- in all, not more than two hundred and fifty dollars. Did she expect him—to
- believe—that all the things that had come into the house since had
- not cost more than fifty dollars?
- </p>
- <p>
- It was as if she flaunted it at him—as if she wanted him to know
- that it could not have been <i>his</i> money that bought it!... So that
- was it! She had seen—she had guessed the change in him—and
- this was her guard? She would force him to know—to accuse her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Old Barstow’s words came to him mockingly: “No—she will not contest
- it. She wants—to be—free.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- X
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>UT if she wished
- him to know she gave no other sign.
- </p>
- <p>
- She spent the money that he gave her, and when it was gone she asked him
- for more.
- </p>
- <p>
- Only once she had said as she took it: “You are sure it is right for me to
- spend this?”
- </p>
- <p>
- And he had replied: “When you ask for anything I cannot give you I will
- let you know.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She had said nothing. She had not even glanced at him. But somehow he
- fancied that she understood him.
- </p>
- <p>
- He grew to know, by intuition, the days when she would go to Merwin’s.
- </p>
- <p>
- As he left the house he would say: “She will be there—” And when he
- dropped in, in the afternoon, he did not even need to glance at the alcove
- on the right. He would sit down quietly in his place across the aisle,
- glad to be with her.
- </p>
- <p>
- He never saw her come and go and he did not know whether any one was with
- her—behind her curtain. He tried not to know.... He was trying to
- understand Rosalind. What was it drew her? Was it music—or the quiet
- place? Or was there———?
- </p>
- <p>
- He could easily have known.... Gordon Barstow’s detective would have made
- sure for him in a day.... But Eldridge did not want to know—anything
- that a detective could tell him. He did not want to be told by detectives
- or told things detectives could tell. He was studying Rosalind’s every
- wish—as if he were a boy.
- </p>
- <p>
- He did not go to Merwin’s till he felt sure that she would be there in the
- alcove, and he left before she drew the little curtain and came out. He
- did not want to know.... He only wanted her to be there—and to sit
- with her a little while, quietly....
- </p>
- <p>
- He would wait and understand.
- </p>
- <p>
- A piano had come into the house and the boys were taking lessons. One day
- he discovered that Rosalind was learning, too.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had come home early, wondering whether he would ask her to go for a
- walk with him. He had asked her once or twice and they had gone for a
- little while before supper, walking aimlessly through the suburban
- streets, saying very little; he had fancied that Rosalind liked it—but
- he could not be sure.
- </p>
- <p>
- He opened the door with his latchkey and stepped in. Some one was playing
- softly, stopping to sing a little, and then playing again.... Rosalind was
- alone.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0127.jpg" alt="0127 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0127.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- He stood very quiet in the dark hall; only a little light from above the
- door—shining on the stair rail and on a lamp that hung above it....
- She was playing with the lightest touch—a few notes, as if feeling
- her way, and then the little singing voice answering it.... So she was
- like this—very still and happy—and he was shut out. His hand
- groped behind him for the latch and found it and opened the door, and he
- stepped outside and closed the door softly.
- </p>
- <p>
- He stood a moment in the wind. Behind his door he heard the music playing
- to itself....
- </p>
- <p>
- He walked for a long time that afternoon—along the dull streets,
- staring at brick houses and at children running past him on brick
- walks.... It was all brick walks and long rows of houses—and
- dulness; he could not reach Rosalind. He could buy clothes for her—more
- bricks... and there was the music—his mind halted—and went on.
- </p>
- <p>
- Music made her happy—like that! He bought an evening paper and
- studied it awhile, standing by the newsstand, with the cars and taxis
- shooting past. Presently he folded the paper and took a car that was going
- toward town. There was something he could do for Rosalind—something
- that no one had thought of—something that she would like!
- </p>
- <p>
- He was as eager and as ignorant as a boy, standing in front of the barred
- ticket window and looking in.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tickets for the Symphony?” The man glanced out at him. “House sold out.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Eldridge stared back. “You mean—I cannot—get them!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Something may come in. You can leave your name.” The man pushed paper and
- pencil toward him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Eldridge wrote his name slowly. “I want—good ones.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Can’t say—” said the man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There are six ahead of you—” He took up the paper and made a note.
- </p>
- <p>
- Eldridge stepped outside. A man looked at him and moved up, falling into
- step beside him. “I have a couple of tickets—” he said softly.
- </p>
- <p>
- He did not know that he was speaking to a man on a quest, a man who would
- have paid whatever he might ask for the slips of paper in his hand—They
- were not mere symphony tickets he sold. They were tickets to the fields of
- the sun. He asked five dollars for them; he might have got fifty.
- </p>
- <p>
- Eldridge slipped them into his pocket. He stepped back into the hall. “I
- shall not need those tickets,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- The man in the window glanced at him, indifferent, and crossed out a name.
- </p>
- <p>
- All the way home Eldridge’s heart laughed. Would she like it?... She had
- played so softly... she would listen like that—and he would be with
- her.... He could not keep the tickets in his pocket. He took them out and
- looked at them—two plain blue slips with a few black marks on
- them.... And he had thought of it himself!—It was not Mr. El-dridge
- Walcott’s money that bought them for her.... Would she understand it was
- not money—?
- </p>
- <p>
- She took them from him with half-pleased face—“For the Symphony?”
- she said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought you might—we—. might like it—”
- </p>
- <p>
- She looked at them a minute. “I never went to a symphony—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nor I—” He laughed a little. “I thought we might—try it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She was still regarding them thoughtfully. “I haven’t anything to wear—have
- I—?” She looked up with the wrinkled line between her eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wear your—” He checked it on his tongue. “Get something—There’s
- a week, you know. You can get something, can’t you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, if you think I ought—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of course—get what you need.” She waited thoughtfully.... “I have—a
- dress that might do—with a little changing—” she said.
- </p>
- <p>
- He saw with a flash, suddenly, the dark attic above them—and a man
- on his knees staring down at the grey and shimmering whiteness. “Better
- get something new, wouldn’t you?” said Eldridge.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perhaps—I will think—about it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He could not have told which he wished——-But when, the night
- of the concert, she came down to him wearing the grey dress and long grey
- gloves, with the lace falling softly back—he knew in the flash, as
- he looked at her, that he was glad....
- </p>
- <p>
- She was buttoning one of the gloves and the long grey coat hung from her
- arm. She did not look up.
- </p>
- <p>
- He took it from her and wrapped her in it.
- </p>
- <p>
- They were going to another world—together. She was going—with
- him.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a little, quiet flush in her face as she sat in the car. Other
- people were going to the concert, and she looked at them as they came in
- and sat down.
- </p>
- <p>
- And Eldridge looked at Rosalind. He did not speak to her.... They were
- going to a new world—and the car was taking them.... Bits of talk—color—drifting
- fragrance as the coats fell back.... The woman across the aisle had a
- bunch of violets....
- </p>
- <p>
- Why had he not thought to get violets for Rosalind! Would she have liked
- flowers—? She seemed a strange Rosalind, sitting beside him in the
- car in her grey dress—her eyes like little stars.... They had three
- children... and a brick house....
- </p>
- <p>
- The car jolted on. Eldridge would have wished that it might never stop....
- There would not be another night like this. He could put out his hand and
- touch mystery.... Then he was helping her over the crowded street and they
- were in the hall—with flowers everywhere—and something close
- about you that touched you when you moved.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p>
- For years afterward he looked back to that Symphony with Rosalind. He had
- come blindly to a door—as blindly as, when a boy, he had walked in
- the moonlight—and they had gone in together. They were like children
- in its strangeness. And as children explore a new field, they went
- forward. It belonged to them—the lights and people, and vibrations
- everywhere.... They would go till they came to the end—but there
- would be no end—always hills stretching beyond, and a wood—something
- deep, mysterious in that wood.... They came to it softly, looking in, and
- turned back.... Once Rosalind had turned and looked at him.
- </p>
- <p>
- He held that fast—through the weeks and months that went by, through
- the dull brick streets, he held it fast—for a moment the hidden
- Rosalind had come to her window and looked out at him and smiled—before
- she turned away.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- XI
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE next day Gordon
- Barstow had come to see him. The divorce had dragged on. It had not been
- contested, but there had been delays and consultations and Eldridge had
- come to know Gordon Barstow well.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had a kind of keen, vicarious pity for Barstow. Sometimes, as he talked
- with him and the simple lovableness of the man’s nature came up through
- the uncouthness, he wondered whether Gordon Barstow might not have
- regained his wife—if he had been determined. But he had let her go;
- and after the first day he had seemed to take a kind of pleasure in the
- proceedings.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ve been foolish about her,” he said, sitting in Eldridge’s office. “But
- I don’t want her to suffer because I’ve been foolish—and I want to
- make her an allowance—a good one. I don’t want Cordelia should ever
- be poor.” Eldridge looked at him. “Won’t Tower take care of that?” he
- suggested.
- </p>
- <p>
- The old man seemed to hold it—“He’ll mean to. He’s honest toward
- her. I shouldn’t let him marry her if he wasn’t straight. But I want
- Cordelia provided for.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And Eldridge suddenly saw that he was thinking of her as a man thinks of
- his daughter—protectingly. The soreness seemed to have gone out of
- his hurt. And there was something big in his attitude toward the two who
- had wronged him. “Cordelia’s only a child,” he said. “I don’t believe I’d
- ’a’ minded so much—if they’d trusted me. It’s that that hurts, I
- guess—thinking of the times they must ’a’ lied—and I not
- knowing enough to see anything was wrong.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Yes—it was that that hurt—the times Rosalind had slipped away
- from him, before he knew—when he hadn’t eyes enough to see. He did
- not mind that she went to Merwin’s. Sometimes he was impatient that she
- did not go oftener. He would watch eagerly for the look in her face that
- told him that to-day was a Merwin day.... He did not mind her going, now
- that he knew. It was the not knowing that hurt.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sometimes, lately, he had begun to wonder whether Rosalind knew that he
- was there, whether she guessed who it was that came through the swinging
- doors and sat across the aisle, always a little behind her, and went away
- before she left her place.... He liked to fancy that she knew—and
- did not mind.
- </p>
- <p>
- Men and women were not so small as he had made them in his thought. There
- was room in them generally for life to turn round.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was this that Gordon Barstow had taught him, he thought. He watched the
- old man’s simple preparations to make Cordelia “well off” with quiet
- understanding. It was not reparation with him; it was only a steady, clear
- intention in the old man’s thought that the woman he had loved and who had
- gone from him should not suffer.... “I might have kept her—if I’d
- understood quick enough, I guess. I’m slow—about women,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then one day he came into the office. Eldridge had sent him word that
- there were last papers to sign—and the business would be done. He
- came in slowly, a little pinched with the cold. The wart in the grey-black
- beard had a bluish look. Eldridge had learned not to look at the
- half-hidden lump of flesh. He had fancied one day, as his eye rested on
- it, that the man shrank a little. He had been surprised and he had never
- looked at it again. It was the curious bluish look to-day that caught his
- eye an instant.
- </p>
- <p>
- The old man signed the papers and pushed them back. “Well, I’m glad—it’s
- done.” He sat looking at them a minute. “It’s taught me more than I ever
- knew before,” he said. He lifted his eyes a minute to Eldridge. “I’ve
- learned things—thinking about it—and about her—”
- </p>
- <p>
- He sat without speaking a little time. He had come to trust Eldridge, and
- he seemed to like to sit quiet like this, at times, without speaking. “I
- saw a woman to-day,” he said, “that made me understand—more than
- Cordelia has—a woman in at Merwins.”—Eldridge leaned forward—“She
- was sitting there alone,” said the old man, “and I see her face—one
- of these quiet faces—not old and not young. I could ’a’ loved her if
- I’d known her when I was younger—I see how she was—she sat so
- quiet there. Well”—he got up and reached for his hat—“you’ve
- seen me through. Thank you—for what you’ve done.” And then he went
- out and Eldridge looked at his watch—Too late. She would be gone. It
- was the first time he had missed her—since he knew. He had not
- thought that Barstow’s business would take so long. He gathered up the
- papers, filing certain ones and addressing others to be mailed.... He
- should miss the old man. He had a feeling underneath his thought, as he
- sorted the papers and filed them, that he was glad Barstow had sat so long
- even though he had missed Rosalind.... He had seemed to want to stay.
- </p>
- <p>
- Eldridge filed the last of the papers and looked again at his watch. It
- was late, but not too late, he decided, to begin the piece of work that
- had been put off for nearly a week. He became absorbed in it, and it was
- seven o’clock before he left the office.
- </p>
- <p>
- The newsboys were shouting extras—as he came out—and he put
- one in his pocket. He did not open it. Some one took a seat by him in the
- car and they talked till the car reached home. Then the children claimed
- him; and after supper he talked a little while with Rosalind.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a maid now in the kitchen and Rosalind’s hands, he was thinking,
- as they lay in her lap, were not red and roughened; they had a delicate
- look. She sat sometimes without any sewing in them or any fussy work—talking
- with him or sitting quiet. The first time she had sat so, without
- speaking, he had felt as if the silence were calling out—shouting
- his happiness—telling the world that Rosalind trusted him.
- </p>
- <p>
- He opened the paper and glanced at it—and dropped it—as if he
- were seeing something.
- </p>
- <p>
- She looked up. “What is it?” she asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- He took it up again slowly. “It’s a man—I know—Gordon Barstow.
- They found him dead—in his car this afternoon. It’s some one you
- never knew.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- XII
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>EEKS passed and
- she had not gone to Merwin’s. For a while Eldridge watched her face and
- waited for the Merwin look to come.... Then he forgot it—for weeks
- he did not think of it. There had been another concert; they had gone to a
- play and then to another; and as the spring came on he took her for long
- drives into the country; sometimes they went with the children, but more
- often alone. They drove far out in the country and came back at early
- dusk, the brick houses softly outlined about them.
- </p>
- <p>
- She could not fail to see that he was devoted to her. Sometimes he brought
- a flower and left it on her table; he never gave it to her directly, and
- there was no response to it. Beyond the one quiet look at the concert, she
- had given no sign—only that now she would sit with him silent, a
- long time, as if she did not repel him.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was working hard and the business had grown. A new class of clients was
- coming to him—men with big interests—and the work often kept
- him late at the office. Sometimes he would take supper in town and work
- far into the evening.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was late in June that he came home one night and found her sitting
- alone in the porch—a shadowy figure—as he came up the brick
- walk.
- </p>
- <p>
- The day had been warm, but the air had grown cool now and the moon
- glimmered over the houses and roofs and on the few trees and shrubs in the
- yard.
- </p>
- <p>
- They sat a long time in the porch, talking of the children and of the work
- he had stayed for and a little about going away for the summer; they had
- never been away in the summer, but they were going next week. He had tried
- to send her earlier, when the children were through school, but she had
- waited, and he had arranged for them all to get away together.
- </p>
- <p>
- The moon rose high over the roofs and picked out the little lines of vines
- on the porch and touched her face and hair. She was wearing a light dress,
- something filmy, that was half in shadow, and his eyes traced the lines of
- it. She was always mysterious, but often now as he looked at her he felt
- that her guard was down. There were only a few steps more to cross—he
- began to wonder if he should ever take them—to-night perhaps? Or was
- he not, after all, the man to win her?
- </p>
- <p>
- She did not hold him back. It was something in him that waited. He
- watched, through the moonlight, the vine shadows on her face—and he
- remembered the night when she lay asleep—and he had watched her face—the
- stranger’s face—close to him... and a boy and girl stood in the
- moonlight and looked at him mistily—and drew back—and his wife
- swayed a little, rocking in her chair, and her shadow moved on the
- floor....
- </p>
- <p>
- If he should speak—to her—now—what would she do? Would
- the gentle rocking cease?...
- </p>
- <p>
- Then, slowly, a face grew before him. He watched it shape and fade—with
- its grimness and kindness and a look of pain that lay behind it—old
- Barstow’s face!... He knew now—he had come out of the moonlight....
- To-morrow he would speak to Rosalind—face to face, in the clear
- light of every day.... The wonder of life was hidden in the sun—not
- in half lights—or moonlight.... He was not afraid now. They would go
- for a long drive—and he would tell her in the sun.
- </p>
- <p>
- But when he looked at her in the morning he knew that he was not to take
- her with him out into the country. It was the Merwin look—a little
- look of quiet intentness as if she dreamed and would not wake....
- </p>
- <p>
- He looked at it and turned away. He had not seen the look for weeks, but
- he knew that he should find her there when he pushed open the swinging
- doors and went in.
- </p>
- <p>
- The curtains were drawn a little back and he knew, before he sat down,
- that she was there—waiting for some one.... He had never seen her
- like this—he had not been sure. He had put the thought from him when
- it came. But now he knew—she was there waiting for some one, full of
- happiness.... He knew her so well! She could not have a happiness he did
- not share—and no one should hurt her! His hands half clinched.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had not thought she would come—again.... Why had she come? And
- this was <i>his</i> day—under the sky!... He had not thought this
- day she would come to Merwin’s!
- </p>
- <p>
- Then he waited with her. Whatever Rosalind chose—she should not
- separate herself from him—or from love.... He would wait with her
- and be glad with her.... The strange face—the moonlight face—did
- not shut him out now....
- </p>
- <p>
- The swinging doors opened and closed and the man and the woman waited.
- </p>
- <p>
- The curtains to her alcove were closed; she had reached a hand to them and
- drawn them together.... But she could not shut herself away; he could see
- her as clearly as if he were there with her—the bent head and gentle
- face. The curtains should not shut him out.
- </p>
- <p>
- He could not have told when it was that it came to him—He lifted his
- head a minute and looked at it.... She was there waiting for some one—she
- had been waiting, a long time, in her alcove—and he had not stirred!
- </p>
- <p>
- He got up slowly and looked across to the green curtain—He moved
- toward it—and put out his hand and—drew back the curtain....
- She was looking up, smiling—“You were—a long time!” she said.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her hand motioned to the seat across the table—but he did not take
- it. He stood looking down at her—He laid his hat on the table and
- bent and kissed her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her lip trembled a little but she did not speak.
- </p>
- <p>
- He sat down in the chair opposite and looked at her——-“Well—?”
- he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- She shook the tears from her eyes and smiled through them. “It was a long
- while!” she said.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- XIII
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE man and the
- woman in the alcove on the right had been talking a long while. Three
- times the waiter had looked in and withdrawn. If he had stopped long
- enough he would have seen that it seemed to be the woman who was talking.
- The man sat silent, one hand shading his eyes and the eyes looking out at
- her as she talked.
- </p>
- <p>
- The waiter knew the woman. He had served her—many times. He
- remembered very well the first day she came to Merwin’s—a year ago—more
- than a year, perhaps. She was alone, and she had stood just inside the
- swinging door—looking about her as if she were not used to places
- like Merwin’s—or as if she were afraid. Something had made him think
- that she was looking for some one—and he had shown her into the
- third alcove on the right. But no one had come that day. She had come
- again many times since, and always alone, and there was always a coin on
- the table in the third alcove waiting for him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The waiter was a little disappointed to-day.... He knew the man—Eldridge
- Walcott—a lawyer—a good enough sort; but the waiter somehow
- felt that they had not met until today. He had served them both alone—but
- not together—until to-day.... He pushed aside the curtain and looked
- in.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was still talking.... The man made a little gesture of refusal, and he
- withdrew....
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was when Tom sent me the five hundred—” the waiter heard her say
- as the curtain fell in place.
- </p>
- <p>
- The man in the alcove behind the curtain was looking at her—“When
- did Tom send you—five hundred?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A year ago—a little more than a year, I think—” She paused to
- think it out. “He had not sent us anything, you know—not since
- little Tom was born—?” She was looking at him, straight——
- </p>
- <p>
- His own look did not flinch. “I know—I put it into the business—called
- it investing it—for Tommie—at six per cent.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She nodded. “Tom never liked it. I suppose mother told him—that we
- had not used it to buy things with—the way he meant us to.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For things you needed,” said the man. “I know—I knew then—but
- I took it.” He did not excuse himself—and his eyes did not look away
- from her. “I was blind,” he said softly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That was what Tom wrote—when he sent the five hundred. He said that
- I must spend it on myself—or return it to him.... And that I was to
- tell him just what I bought with it—every penny of it—” She
- waited a minute.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did he say anything else?” asked the man. “Better tell me everything,
- wouldn’t you—Rosalind?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He said that he was not setting Eldridge Walcott up in business,” she
- added after a little minute—and she smiled at him tenderly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Eldridge returned the look—“We don’t mind—now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No.”... They were silent a few minutes. “I thought—at first—I
- <i>would</i> send it back. I wrote to Tom how many things we needed—for
- the house—and the children—and for everything—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What did he say?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He asked me if you would <i>let</i> me spend it for the house and for the
- children and for everything—if you knew about it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The man’s eyes were looking at Mr. Eldridge Walcott, regarding him
- impartially. “I am glad that you did not let me know.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes. I sent it back—once. But Tom wrote again—all about when
- we were children and when he gave me the biggest bites of candy and filled
- my pail up to the top when we went berrying——-He said it was
- what had made a man of him—keeping my pail full.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Eldridge winced a little. But she did not stop. “He said he wanted me to
- spend the money for the little girl <i>he</i> knew.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I didn’t spend it—not for a long time, you know. But I kept it and
- I looked at it—sometimes—and wondered.... Then one day I saw a
- dress—that I liked. I thought it was like me, a little—?” She
- looked at him———
- </p>
- <p>
- He nodded.
- </p>
- <p>
- “So I got it—and that was the end, I guess.” She laughed
- tremulously. “Everything kept coming after that. The dress seemed to make
- me need— <i>everything!</i>” She spread out her hands.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then she sat thinking—and looking at the dress that needed
- everything. “I wore it at first just at home—when I was alone. I
- would put it on and sit down and fold my hands—and think of
- things... about Tom and about being a little girl—and about mother.
- I was always rested when I took it off... and when the children came in
- from school and you came home, I could bear things better.”....
- </p>
- <p>
- He reached out a hand and touched hers where it lay on the table.... He
- had said that he should touch it—some time. He stroked it a minute
- and she went on.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then I came here—” She made a little gesture. “I didn’t know what
- it was like—I didn’t even know there was a place like this.” She
- glanced around the alcove that sheltered them—with its folds of
- green curtain—“But as soon as I came, I knew I should come again. I
- knew it would take care of me—the way Tom wanted for me. So I spent
- the money.” She lifted the little linked purse from the table—she
- laughed. “Only fifty cents left—You ’re here just in time!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Eldridge held out his hand. “Give it to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She looked at him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I want it—yes. Aren’t you willing to give me fifty cents—of
- your five hundred?”
- </p>
- <p>
- She handed it to him with a little sigh of relief.
- </p>
- <p>
- He took it and balanced it thoughtfully in his hand—“Why did you
- come to-day?” he asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This is my anniversary day.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To-day?”
- </p>
- <p>
- She nodded—as if she saw a vision. “It is a year to-day that I came
- here—the first time.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Alone—?” The word breathed itself—and stopped, and Eldridge
- put out a hand. “Don’t tell me! I did not ask it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t you know?” She was looking at him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I know. I do not understand—but I know.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She smiled and sat silent.... “I was frightened to come!” It seemed as if
- she were looking at the strangeness of it. “I was afraid—the first
- day—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You should have asked me to come,” he urged.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Would you have come?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No—not then.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I had to come! I could not wait—and there was—no one....
- You would not have come—not even if I had waited.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No—I should not have come—except to find you.... Tell me,
- have you never been afraid of me—of what I would do?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The first day—yes—I was terribly frightened when you came in
- and sat over there,” she moved her hand. “I wanted to scream out—to
- go to you and tell you what it meant, and beg you not to be angry.... I
- had never done anything without you before. I was like a child! Then you
- went out and I hurried home. I tore off the things. I did not mind your
- knowing. I only wanted you to understand. I was afraid you might not—understand.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I didn’t—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No—I know. But after a while—I knew you were trying to....
- Then I knew that some day we should be here—together.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The little alcove seemed to expand and become a wide place—Eldridge
- caught a glimpse of something fine and sincere—it passed like a
- breath over her face and was gone.
- </p>
- <p>
- She lifted the face—“I have waited for it,” she said. “I have prayed
- for it every day, I think.” Her lips barely moved the words—“I did
- not want to feel alone here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He pushed back the curtain and beckoned to the waiter. “We will drink to
- the day,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- Eldridge gave his order and looked on, smiling, while the waiter placed
- the slender-necked flask on the table and brought out the glasses and
- withdrew.
- </p>
- <p>
- They lifted the glasses. “To the day—you left me,” he said. “And to
- the day I followed you,” he added slowly.
- </p>
- <p>
- The glass paused in her hand. “That was the Symphony—?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes—And to your anniversary!”
- </p>
- <p>
- She set down the glass. “I have not told you everything. It was not—my
- anniversary—made me come—to-day.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No?”
- </p>
- <p>
- She shook her head. “I came—to meet—you!” she said.
- </p>
- <p>
- He looked at her slowly—“And when did you know that I would come?”
- he asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Last night—in the moonlight. I was so afraid you would speak there—in
- the moon! I did not want the moon to get in,” she said. “I wanted you to
- speak in real, plain daylight—and then, of course, you know, it’s
- Tom’s gown and not the moon. Everybody has the moon!” she laughed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This is a very little place, this alcove,” said Eldridge. He was looking
- about him at the green walls of the alcove—thinking of the sun and
- the fields and of the road up through the hills——
- </p>
- <p>
- “But it’s where I went berrying with Tom,” she laughed.
- </p>
- <p>
- He smiled at her. “Then it is as big as the world—and the sun and
- all the fields of the sun!” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- Outside the curtain the music tinkled dimly, and there was a lower music
- still of all the glasses and words—and there was a silence in the
- alcove.
- </p>
- <p>
- “So there has never been any one—any one but me—” he said, “in
- your alcove!” He was looking at her hap-pily.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No.” Her lip waited on it—and closed. “There <i>was</i> some one—”
- she spoke slowly. “It seems a queer thing to tell. It had no beginning and
- no end!” She waited, still looking at it.... “It was a man—an old
- man—that used to sit over there to the left, at a table by himself.
- I could see him through the curtains. Even when they were almost closed I
- could see him. He always sat there, and always alone.... I did not notice
- him at first.... I do not think any one would have noticed him—at
- first. He was almost ugly—or he seemed ugly.” She was smiling at her
- thought.... “And one day suddenly I saw him as he really was, as he was
- inside—very gentle and strong and wise—and not wanting to hurt
- any one or to let any one suffer—more than they had to. I knew, some
- way, if I should go up to him and speak to him, that he would understand
- me—and help me. I should have liked to—speak to him. Of course
- it is really the same as if I did.”... She seemed thinking of it. “But I
- didn’t. I never saw him more than a dozen times, I suppose. But I used to
- think about him, and it helped me. I should have trusted him anywhere—and
- been willing to go with him—anywhere in the world. I don’t believe
- he was very clever—but it rested me to think of him—just as a
- big, homely field rests you—and the way the music did that first
- night—when we knew each other——-”
- </p>
- <p>
- After a minute she went on. “I have not seen him for a long time. He
- stopped coming suddenly....”
- </p>
- <div style="height: 6em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
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